Bloodstained Mind
by NinjaMoose
Summary: No fangs, no cloaks, just one bloodthirsty Russian in a scarf. America/Russia
1. Chapter 1

Okay, don't panic everybody. this isn't going to be some sappy-Twilight-fic. Trust me. I'm not a Twilight supporter.

I looked around ye ole internet and found that the whole vampire legend started (I think) in Russia. I'm going to do some research for this fic, but it might be a little historically off. But still, no sparkles. Promise. :D

I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

Ukraine took a deep breath.

These strange "attacks" always put her on edge. She couldn't handle taking care of Russia on her own, and there was no way she could ask for help from Belarus. She was sure her sister actually was not aware of their brother's strange…"condition", and would just make it worse.

Russia's room was dark, not only due to the dark night sky but everything about the room had a dark glow. Deep violets, blues, and browns that bordered on black draped and colored every piece of furniture, every wall drapery, everything. A clap of thunder roared outside. It hadn't started raining but it was in the air. Any minute a full midnight storm would roll in.

A groan came from the bed.

"Brother…?"

Ukraine carefully approached her brother's bed, a worried look on her face. Her feet barely made a sound as the moved closer to the bed.

Russia looked even worse than he did when she had last checked on him. Sweat rolled down his face and neck, his face scrunched up in pain. With a gasp, his eyes shot open, the intense violet they normal were seemed dulled and glassy. Gingerly, Ukraine reached to check his temperature.

Another gasp and Russia closed his eyes quickly. Ukraine noted how his Adam's Apple bobbed at her touch. She quickly pulled her hand away.

"I'm…I'm going to call the other nations you'll not able to go to the meeting tomorrow."

Ivan grunted. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"Brother, please!"

"I am going."

"You need rest. As long as you stay here, it should pass in a few days-" Ukraine gasped as Russia increased his grip. With a quick pull, Russia brought his sister's wrist to his lips. Their eyes met, and Ukraine's heart physically hurt. She could tell, Russia was in so much pain. And there was nothing she could do to help him.

"Mmm…." His fingers twitched, his mind was in turmoil. Even going without his vodka was not this hard. He could feel his sister's pulse. Her life. Wouldn't it just be….delicious… to take it? Not all of it, just a little. Just enough to wet his lips.

No…he…He had self-control.

Russia tossed her hand away gently. His head rolled to the side on his pillow, away from Ukraine's eyes.

Ukraine sighed, "…If you still insist on going, at least let me come with you." Russia said nothing.

Ukraine looked her brother over one last time before slowly turning and leaving the room. She walked down the long, dark corridor and collapsed in a chair in one of the many living rooms in Russia's mansion.

"What am I going to do?" She felt tears swell up in her eyes. Her brother was so stubborn. She wanted to help him. This "disease" was…

"He needs someone…I need someone," A tear rolled down her cheek, "Someone to save him…"

Wait.

"A hero."

The conference was being held in London. Ukraine had been to a few world meetings, but something like the G8 was out of her league. The lobby in the front of the building was impressive in its own right. A high glass dome for a ceiling, elaborate wall décor, and comfy furniture rivaled some of the most impressive buildings she had ever seen. All the best for the world's biggest countries, she supposed.

Russia had held her hand the entire flight. It seemed to make him calmer, though he still wouldn't look her in the eyes.

"Sister, I'm going to check in," Russia walked away. Ukraine's hand suddenly felt very empty. She watched her brother walk up to a large desk that ran the length of one of the walls. As she watched Russia converse with the man behind the counter she heard a laugh. A loud, overly happy, obnoxious laugh. Taking a deep breath, she followed the sound.

Canada, America, and England where arguing about something. Rather, England was trying to argue with America, America was playing with England, and Canada just watched with a small smile.

"America…?"

Hearing his name, he turned away from England (much to the older country's annoyance) and grinned at Ukraine. "Oh hey! Uh….?"

"Ukraine."

"AHAHAHA! Sorry." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

England scolded him, "Really, America. You can't remember anything can you?"

"I remember stuff!" America glared at England.

"Fine then, where's your brother?"

America looked left, then right. Up, down, and behind him. "Uh…"

"See?! Can't even remember where Canada is!"

"Where is he?" America was truly stumped.

England faltered and cleared his throat, "That's why I was asking you…"

"Maple?"

"Excuse me? America, may I speak with you for a moment?"

It always surprised Ukraine how quickly America changed moods. His smile returned, "Sure."

The two of them walked over to a small sitting area. Glancing over her shoulder, Ukraine noticed that Russia was talking with China. Good.

"America…I need a favor."

"Anything! I am a hero after all!"

She would have smiled had the subject not be so serious, "Thank you, but let me explain before you accept. My brother is…feeling ill. He'll be better in a few days but until then he's very vulnerable. I'm asking you to…look after him. For me. In the meantime, I'll be taking care of Belarus. She…she would just make this illness worse."

America's smile faultered, "Look after him?"

"I can't explain it here. I can write you an e-mail about everything while you all are in the G8 meeting. I need to get back home to watch over Belarus, so I would really appreciate if you watched my brother for me," she felt embarrassed, water was building up in her eyes, "Please."

America actually looked serious. She breathed a sigh of relief when he said, "Okay."

"But I need details, alright?"

"Of course." They were going to get through this. They really were going to get through this! Taking a deep breath, Ukraine steadied herself, the hardest part was done, but explaining her brother's…condition…was still not going to be easy.

"My brother, Russia, has been a country for a long time." America nodded, and Ukaraine continued, "So, he's seen a lot of war, violence…bloodshed."

"Right."

"A few of his old bosses…loved torture. And every few months…Russia…craves it."

"Craves torture?!"

"No!" Another quick glance in Russia's direction. He was talking with England and France (or rather standing by them while they had a conversation, visibly making England and France uncomfortable). "I mean, he craves blood. It's become such large part of his history that he…"

America held up his hand, "Wait." Ukraine looked him in the eyes, trying to read him. He looked…determined, like a kid who had to speak in front a large group of strangers. He was afraid but at the same time, determined to work things out.

"So…every now and then, he turns into a vam-…he…he wants blood."

"…Yes."

"Why me?" Much to Ukraine's surprise, America still didn't look scared. He wanted an honest answer.

"Because you are the only one that's not afraid of him."

One by one the countries filed into the meeting room. England took the podium first, sorting through papers for the presentation.

Russia's head spun slowly. The room blurred in and out occasionally. The bottle of vodka in his coat was barely touched, its liquid contents sloshed around, much like Russia's nauseous stomach. He sat down towards the end of the table, and much to his surprise, America sat right down next to him, instead of his normal spot near the head of the table.

"Hey big guy." America's smile made Russia's head hurt more.

Russia looked away. The smile could be ignored, but the shine in America's eyes couldn't. The younger country was up to something, and Russia wanted no part in it.

* * *

What will happen at the meeting? Will America help Russia or just make everything worse? Stay tuned.

Reviews would be great. *Hint hint* :D


	2. Chapter 2

OH MY GOSH!!!

Thank you all so much! I've never gotten that many reviews before. . So happy.

So here's the new chapter. I hope it's up to par with what you all thought of Chapter 1.

I don't own Hetalia, but I did come up with Jeremy the waiter.

* * *

Russia had a hard time concentrating on anything.

Really, it was hard enough to pay attention when he felt so terrible. He didn't need an artificial sun right next to him. So bright, too bright…

If he and America learned anything during their wars together, it was how to read each others emotions. America was determined. But about what, Russia didn't know. To top it off, America's right hand kept tapping a pen on the table, showing his wrist. Russia could count the arteries and veins. America's arm was tense with thought and stress. It was such a sensitive area…

America jumped up then and loudly voiced his opinion on whatever it was that they were talking about. Again.

Since America was sitting in the back of the room, it made perfect sense (to America) that shouting was the most effective way to get his points across. Nobody could hear him otherwise, right? England threw a pen at America and told him to sit down and shut up.

It's not like he wanted to sit in the back. It was hard to hear, and no body could see him. But, Ukraine needed his help, Russia needed his help, and by Lincoln, he was going to help. It's what heroes do!

Every now and then, America would gather the courage to look at the Russian next to him. Sweating, fingers twitching, eyes zooming in and out of focus… Darn it. He wanted to know how bad Russia was "sick". Were these signs urgent or were they minor things that Russia did when …"sick". America made up his mind; he couldn't wait for Ukraine's e-mail.

He would find out as much about Russia's condition as he could on his own for now.

England's presentation was coming to a close, "So, before we take a break, does anyone have something to say-"

America shot out of his chair before England could add "Except America."

America smiled. It felt nice being at the podium again. He scanned the faces of the other countries, ending on Russia, and giving him a small nod. Russia's eyebrow quirked slightly.

"Okay, so, I know my health care is currently being revised, but that doesn't mean I don't wanna help if anybody needs help. Okay?" C'mon, take the bait.

"America, you twit, we were talking about banking, not the health care systems! That's to be discussed after break!"

C'mon…we can do this the easy way or the hard way…

Germany looked confused, "I'm not exactly sure what you're implying, America."

C'mon!

England buried his face in his palm, "Go sit down, America!"

Wait-

"But-"

"But nothing! I said, after break, and I meant after break!"

A quick glance at Russia showed that being subtle wasn't gonna work.

"Fine," America trudged back to his chair.

Two minutes later, most of the other countries had left. A thirty-minute break always emptied the room. The only two left were America and Russia.

How convenient.

"So…Russia." Light conversation, Alfred. Start light.

Russia didn't look up. His head remained tilted toward the table, bangs covering his eyes.

"Is there anything on your mind? Anything ya need to just get off your chest?"

Still nothing.

"I mean, I know we've had our differences but I wanna-" Can't say help. That'll give him away. "I just wanna say I'm willing to listen. 'Kay?"

Russia reached into the pocket on the inside of his coat, and pulled out his vodka.

That's a good sign, right? Uh…

Russia stood, bottle in hand, and left the room.

Fine! Be that way! America didn't care! He wanted to make this easy, to heal Russia as quickly as possible, but no. Stupid Russia couldn't cooperate. Fine.

He'd wait for that e-mail after all. Russia would have to wait to be helped!

The rest of the meeting went by pretty uneventfully. The countries filed in, Russia last, and they discussed their health care problems. America's attention zoned out. He was still mad at Russia so without that element keeping him on his toes, the meeting was pretty slow. He took the opportunity to fold his arms on the table, propping his head on his arms to get back some of the sleep he lost flying out to London the night before.

A pen hit him again.

"Wake up!"

"Ughn?" America wished England would stop doing that.

"We're going to be late."

"Late for what?" The meeting's over?

England face palmed again, "Dinner, America. Food."

Food! That's just what he needed! Not eating during the meeting really had him hungry.

Fifteen minutes later the two countries met up with the others at the fancy restaurant they all went to after G8 meetings. Their waiter, everyone assumed hand picked by England, was the same guy every time, Jeremy. America gave him a smile as Jeremy came around after taking a few orders.

"Your usual, Mr. Jones?"

"Thanks, Jerry!" Man, Jerry was awesome.

The waiter then moved to China, Germany, and France, who all ordered their usuals as well. The great thing about this particular restaurant was its ability to cater to different countries tastes in cuisine. Everyone suspects that was England's doing too.

"And you, Mr. Braginsky?" Russia looked up from his menu.

"Steak please," the waiter was visibly uncomfortable, as was everyone else. He broke the chain.

"Alright, how would you like that done?" the waiter covered his discomfort with a smile, "And would you like your-"

"Extra rare, vodka is fine."

Jeremy nodded and glanced at England who shrugged.

America felt his pulse quicken. What did Russia just do? He ordered something very bloody, that's what! Forget the e-mail, the chase was on!

Usual dinner conversation started. England and France argued, and the other countries talked quietly amongst themselves. Except Russia.

Symptoms noticed: even more shaky hands. Drinks came, didn't touch the vodka (America sipped his cola), strangely focused eyes, hand on stomach…Stomach growl.

Wait, that was his own stomach. America took a whiff of the air and watched as their food came out from the kitchen doors. A plate was placed in front of him. Extra large hamburger, large order of steak fries, and a refill on his cola. Awesome.

Forgetting about his mission for a moment America ate, as the other countries picked over their orders. It appeared edible.

"Obviously you hired chefs from out of your country, no?"

"Shut up!"

Half way through his epic burger of deliciousness, he glanced at Russia, and immediately put his food down. The other countries were watching the Russia eat as well.

Russia slowly cut his steak, and lifted the piece of meat on his fork to his mouth. Blood ran down the fork and smeared on his lips and fingers.

The other countries were in shock as Russia ate his bloody meal. When the steak was eaten, Russia licked his fingers, and then raised his plate to his mouth.

America watched the way people watch a car accident. Disgusting, addictive, and terrifying awe filled him as he watched Russia's Adam's Apple bob as he swallowed, drinking the extra blood from the plate.

With a content sigh, Russia put his plate back down on the table, licking his lips, getting most of the blood off the sides of his face.

Then, he places his tip money on the table, gathered his belongings, and left without a word.

The vodka remained untouched.

* * *

Russia not drinking vodka, but blood? What will Ukraine's e-mail say? Stay tuned to find out~

Reviews are win, if you can spare a minute. :D *hint hint again*


	3. Chapter 3

Almost 40 reviews/comments in 2 chapters. I 3 you guys! :D

EDIT: GAHHHH!!!! I'm sorry guys...Got my fact wrong. I'll explain at the end of the chapter.

Anyway, let's see Ukraine's letter...Here's chapter 3!

I don't own Hetalia or anything mentioned in this fic that is copyrighted. (Though I did come up with that old gypsy lady...)

* * *

_"America,_

_I am writing this as you are in the meeting in hopes that you get this e-mail as soon as it's done._

_As mentioned previously, this…illness…happens occasionally, usually months in between attacks. It does give my brother vampire-like qualities. Just to be clear, don't try to fend him off with garlic or wooden stakes or crosses, okay? Those are just myth, and Russia's condition doesn't exactly follow it.  
_

_Do you know how long Russia has been a country? In that time, he's seen so much war, famine, bloodshed… Adding torturous deeds done by some of his past bosses didn't help. And the first time I saw it…_

_The first time I had seen Russia attack someone for blood was during the time of Vlad the Impaler, one of his bosses. I..I don't know who this poor man was, but Russia had cornered him in a wine cellar of all things. I had caught my brother after the act was done. He was covered in blood, which at the time I thought was spilled wine. I remember thinking "Russia doesn't drink wine, does he?"_

_"Russia?" I had called out._

_He simply turned, and licked the blood off of his fingers. In his right hand was a water faucet pipe, also covered in dark blood. The only think I saw miss or out of place was his scarf. He didn't have it on, presumably to not get blood on it._

_Aside from that, nothing seemed out of place. I took a few steps closer and saw my brother tense up in the dark._

_"Ukraine. Leave."_

_Then I spotted the body. A broken body, no broken wine barrels. I realized then that he wasn't covered in red wine but red…_

_"I will contact the guards. You will leave, da?"_

_He came over and touched my cheek. His eyes trailed from my eyes down to my neck, where they stayed._

_"Understand?" I nodded, and he let me go._

_I'm sorry. I don't want to think about this, besides it's getting off topic._

_The following attacks were done more privately, but each time had reoccurring circumstances._

_He removes his scarf. I gave him the scarf a long time ago and he's kept it in impeccable condition. These attacks, showers, and sleeping are the only times he will take it off or not have it somewhere near him._

_He becomes more physical. Normally, he will not touch other people, choosing to stand really close to others, right? Well…_

_And as obvious as this seems, he generally does get hungrier, and very irritable when hungry, for both blood and normal food. (During the days of the Cold War, when the attacks happened, you had him snacking all day. He has such a high metabolism…)_

_The last note is that his voice will be deeper. I'm sure you all suspect his childlike voice is for show? That is correct. If he does use his "real" voice, pleases watch him closely. It's not a good sign._

_I want to thank you again, America. By the time the meeting is done I will be well on my way to Belarus and will be keeping an eye on her until Russia's attack is over._

_Please keep in mind that my sister and I love our brother. I understand you need to do whatever to keep yourself and Russia safe but please be careful._

_Thank you._

_You are our hero._

_Ukraine."_

Darn it.

America sat on his bed in the hotel room assigned to him. So, things were pretty bad! He freaking' knew it!

It was currently after 9 at night. The e-mail had been sent shortly before the break, and after the meeting they all went out to eat. (Thinking about that made his stomach flip. Drinking blood off a plate? Really?) Dang, this information would have been a lot more helpful earlier, before dinner! Stupid England, rushing him off like that…

Okay, Jones! Think! America's eyes scanned the letter for what had to be the fifth time now. Those points…let's see…

First the scarf. Russia hadn't taken it off during dinner! But, he also didn't have to kill someone for the…So, there was no need. He was extra careful about it that's all. Besides, beating someone to a pulp for …blood (ugh)…was different than drinking it from a plate, right?

America felt sick.

Okay, next. More physical, huh? Hm… How did Russia normally sit…Hands on table, dumb smile on his face? His hands were clutching his stomach at dinner, right? Does that count? It had too. Then again, maybe it was because of the public setting. Yeah, he couldn't be all "touchy feely" in public. That was France's job.

The first reading of number three made him spit out his cola. The thought of Russia stuffing his cheeks with Twinkies (why not Twinkies?) made him laugh. This time he was expecting it, but it still made him smirk. Taking a sip out of his 32 oz. soda he contemplated the third note. Hungry? Well, he did eat an entire steak in less than five minutes. And then drank the fluids afterward. Check there, too.

A deeper voice. America honestly couldn't remember. His awesome burger took too much of his attention. He hadn't paid attention.

Okay then!

A few days of making sure Russia doesn't kill anybody. He could do that. But first he would need to know where the Russian went after dinner.

….Dang it.

America shut off his laptop, threw on some more casual clothes (jeans, a nice-ish t-shirt, and his sneakers) and took off down the hall to England's room.

"What do you want, America?" England looked like he was just about to get some rest, if the striped pajamas were any indication.

"What room is Russia staying in?"

"Russia? Why would you-"

"Don't ask! I just really need to know okay? He, uh…" C'mon, Jones! Think of something. "He borrowed something from me. I want it back." That's good enough.

"…I reserved Room 584 for him."

"All the way up there?"

"America, there's an elevator, you twit. You don't have to take the stairs."

Right. "Okay, see ya, England!" America took off toward the lobby.

England sighed and shut his door.

The lobby was a large open area, from the center one could see all the other levels and rooms. The hotel had to have around twenty floors, so the stairs were rarely used. Instead was a pair of gorgeous glass elevators. America stopped at the doors to catch his breath and pressed the up button.

Two minutes later, America stood outside Russia's door. He knocked.

Nothing.

Another knock. "Hey, Russia!"

Still nothing.

"Russia? C'mon, big guy! I need to talk to ya!"

Knock, knock, knock…

"Sir?"

America turned and looked at a room maid.

"Can I help you sir?"

"Uh..well, have you seen anyone come out of this room? Or go in?"

"No, sir," she motioned toward her cart, " I was just about to change the sheets, actually."

America stepped away and watched the girl pull out a key card and open the door. Russia wasn't there.

Darn it.

America ran down the hall back to the elevators. Russia was some where in London. A glance at the clock in the lobby told America it was a little after 10. London at night wasn't the best place to be, but he had to find Russia! Bracing himself, America ran out the revolving doors of the hotel and took off into the streets.

The streets all looked the same to America, very different from his streets, similar in other ways. In times of panic and determination, America could run pretty fast and far but covering all of London was going to be impossible.

Eventually, the adrenaline died down and America rested against a wall, panting.

"Young man," a scraggly voice caught his attention.

America looked up and spotted an old woman, head wrapped in thick decorative scarves, her clothes loose and just as ornamented. "You look like you're in trouble, young man?"

"Uh… I'm kinda looking for someone."

"Oh, really, deary? Give me one moment."

America's eyes widened as the woman pulled out a softball-sized crystal ball out from her pockets. The night sky caught the light in an enchanting way.

The old woman stared at the ball. "Is your friend…Russian?"

America's mouth dropped, "Yeah!"

"Hm…He is eight streets to the north, fourteen streets east."

"Really?!"

"Yes, but that is a rather dangerous part of town…" Who cares? He knew were Russia was now. "Here. Take this…"

The woman reached into her pockets and pulled out two items, a scrap piece of decorative cloth and a palm sized wooden cross.

America took them, "Thanks!" He quickly resumed his run, loosing the mystery woman with every step.

The woman watched him go.

"Be wary, Alfred Jones."

* * *

And....Cut!

About Vlad the Impaler, he didn't start the vampire legend, rather he liked impalement and other types of torture for his victims. After everything else on Russia's mind, I can imagine this being the last straw, so to speak. And Russia takes a dive toward vampire-ism.

EDIT: *facepalm* Okay, stupid me, I didn't realize Vlad wasn't Russian. I still think his element can fit... Sorry about the confusion. Epic fail on my part. I'll fix it, promise.

Stay tuned for Chapter 4! (BTW, I like seeing reviews in my e-mail. Reviews and thoughts are greatly appreciated. ^_^)


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry, about the long break, guys. Finals took over my life this past week.

Let's see if I can make up for last chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

America always found it easiest to run long distances when there's a goal.

The goals range from the promise of ice cream to a war winning battle, but at the moment he was hunting down a Russian, preferably before the Russian hunts down anyone else. And there he was, a dead end in a dark, dreary London alley, right where that old lady told him. Who'd have thought it?

"Russia!"

Russia stood up from crouching over something. He turned and looked America right in the eyes. Were they always that violet?

"America."

America didn't know what to say. He looked down at the figure at Russia's feet. A pickpocket, from the looks of him. Russia didn't move.

"So..Uh…What are you…doing?"

"Same to you." Wait. That voice. It was deeper than normal. That was the forth thing!

"Well, I noticed you were acting a little weird at the meeting and everything. Just wanted to check up on ya, make sure everything's okay."

Russia stared back, "I'm fine." He motioned to the man on the ground. "This man tried to steal my wallet."

Knew it! America felt victorious, but the feeling was short lived. Russia's voice made the hair on the back of his neck twitch.

"I was…detaining him. Preventing him from stealing anyone else's possessions."

"Oh. Well, uh…That was pretty heroic of ya!"

Russia gave him a confused look.

"Looking out for other people? That's pretty nice of you. Say, how 'bout we go to a Mickey D's to celebrate?"

Russia looked even more confused. He then looked at the thief and then back to America.

"Why?"

"Uh, I…I uh…"

"You're logic doesn't make sense, America."

Those symptoms… "You're hungry, right?"

For a second Russia looked shocked, but it quickly faded to a neutral expression.

"Da. Fine, I'll go." He walked past America and headed out onto the main street, "You're paying."

It didn't take long to find a McDonald's. America's favorite fast food chain had reached all corners of the globe and London was no different. At the counter America ordered a long, complicated order that the cashier was having a hard time entering. America was used to this, after all, he had very specific tastes when it came to fast food.

"Will that be all, sir…?" She obviously didn't want to ask that but protocol was protocol.

"Yep." America gave his best hero smile and she cheered up a little, mostly glad to not be in the kitchen today. "Oh and whatever this guy wants."

America motioned Russia to come up and he did, placing a fake smile and voice over him. "Just an order of fries please."

Ten minutes and several angry workers later the two countries took their food at sat at a table.

Russia stuffed a few fries in his mouth. His eyebrow quirked when America smirked and giggled to himself.

"Something funny?"

Freakin' Twinkies. "No. Nothing."

For a few minutes the two ate in silence.

"What do you want from me?" Russia forced eye contact with America.

"Mm?" America swallowed the bite of his burger. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't invite me to come out of the goodness of your heart. What are you trying to get out of this?"

America let that sink in, partly to come up with a good reply, partly for dramatic effect. He looked at Russia.

"I know."

"…Know what?"

"I know about 'it', Russia. Why you've been acting so weird today." Russia looked angry. "And! And I wanna help!"

More anger.

"How did you find out?!" Russia leaned across the table and grabbed America by the collar. "Who told you?"

Dang, Russia could be intimidating when he wanted to be. (Which was probably all the time.) America knew this game well. The Cold War showed this side of Russia often and it was easy to read after all those years of walking a tight wire of red death.

"Your sister." Sometimes it was easiest to be straightforward.

Russia let go.

"My…"

"Ukraine came to me asking for help. For both of you."

Russia stared at the table. His sister…? Told America of all people? Why…? Help?

"I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity! It's help!"

"How do you intend to help me?"

"Well, she said it's actually harmful to you when you drink…Uh…when you do it. So, I'm gonna be on constant watch to make sure you don't. And in a few days, you'll be good as new!" Or at least as good as Russia could get mentally…

Russia laughed. It was a dark laugh, dripping sarcasm and sadness. The larger country stood and walked toward the door. America followed.

"Hey!"

"America, you, nor my dear sister, understand anything."

The two left, leaving their trays still on the table (which America despised). Really, they could have at least cleaned up their mess first! But he couldn't loose Russia again. Russia obviously will not cooperate so, time for plan B: Force.

America ran in front of Russia and spread his arms. "HEY!"

"You're really going to try to stop me?" That dark tone was back.

"Depends. Where are you going?"

"Back to my room. I'm tired."

"Well, I'm coming with you."

"Why?"

"I need to make sure you don't sneak out and…do something you're not supposed to."

Russia pushed past him. "That will not work."

"Hey, I can keep up with you! It will work."

"That's not what I mean."

"Huh?"

"Ukraine doesn't know what I need. She just wishes the least violent option is the correct one, for my sake." Russia's tone took a sad dip. "Starving myself of my need will only make the attack last longer."

"HUH?"

Russia glanced at America. The young country really was too emotional sometimes. "That pick pocket was no one important. They usually are easy targets." He motioned toward his pocket. "You just show the corner of your wallet or billfold and they come running. It's easy to catch them if you know their coming."

America let that sink in. "You lured him in."

"Da. His blood would have sufficed me for at least the week."

America's stomach twitched. He didn't like how easily Russia could talk about drinking…blood. "How…how much were you going to take?"

"All of it."

America felt like he was going to throw up.

"Squeamish, are we America?"

"N-no! It's just…you were going to…"

"Kill him? Da. But like I said, he was a lowly pickpocket. More than likely someone who had already lost their will to live a fulfilling life a long time ago."

"That doesn't make it right. Just because someone's down doesn't mean they can't get back up!"

America's attitude on life…Russia found it frustrating and amusing at the same time. He was careful about his victims. Always people without hope, never anyone with a will to live. He may be cold-hearted but not so cold-hearted that-

"So…You can't go a few days without… it then?"

Russia looked America in the eyes. "No. Never can. I just hide my work extremely well."

The two walked back to the hotel in silence. Had America not been thinking so hard about the current predicament, his body would collapse from exhaustion. Russia needed…

Russia needed….

Russia needed…

Unconsciously following Russia to his room America stopped outside his door.

"Ukraine will not know the truth, da?"

"I won't tell her."

"Good-"

"On one condition…"

Russia's eyes narrowed. He didn't like bargaining with America, especially on such a touchy subject.

"Da?"

"You drink some of my blood."

Russia froze. "What?"

America looked down at the floor and then back up at Russia's eyes. "I said I'd help. And you said drinking …blood…helps. I'm the hero remember?"

Russia knew that last part was more to America reassuring himself. Russia thought for a moment. America's blood…He'd wanted it for so long…and now…

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." No second-guessing. Russia ushered America in.

Russia's room was mostly decorated in deep browns and reds. The room felt very warm. America sat on a couch along the left wall. Russia sat next to him, and looked at America's hands. They were shaking. He looked at America's eyes. They were focused. Conflicting…

"America, do you know what you're doing?"

"If…if it'll help you…then…yes."

"And what if I drain you dry?"

"I…trust you. From one country… to another."

Russia was taken back by that. Trust. America trusted him?

The bigger nation leaned in, an inch from America's throat. He placed a large hand on the opposite side of

America's neck. "Last chance, America."

He laughed nervously, "Heh…well, if it's not the hero it'll be somebody else right…?"

Russia didn't reply.

America squirmed as Russia's lips touched his neck. He felt Russia bare his teeth. No fangs, Al! Snap out of it! Just teeth!

He felt Russia bite down, and it hurt. It hurt but it was over in an instance. The worst was over, right? The bite was done and-

Russia licked the bite.

America's neck was burning up. That wet texture... His heart was pounding, and it reverberated in his ears. The shaking was still there, but America decided being as perfectly still as possible was the best choice of action.

Russia couldn't think straight. It was just a delicious as he had imagined, better even. Blood was never sweet, it was always metallic and left a strange aftertaste, but America's blood…it was the epitome of any vampires dream. It was what he craved and it pooled in his stomach so nicely... He could taste all of America. His pride, his determination, his warmth, his love, his hate, his work, his being. Everything he personified. More…Russia wanted more.

With a hungry moan, Russia pulled America to his chest. One of his strong arms wrapped around America and held him in place, the other gripped his head.

America felt light headed. His strength was sapped. He couldn't push Russia away. "Ru-Russi….a"

Russia growled at him and took another gulp.

"R-Russia!" Even though he was yelling it came out barely above a whisper. He fell limp against Russia.

Russia stopped. Blood dripping down his chin, he pulled America way in a panic. Had he taken too much?

"America…" He shook the smaller country. America's eyes barely opened.

"Are….you…b…better?"

Russia stood, laying America on the couch. He rushed to the mini-fridge in the room and pulled out a carton of orange juice. He poured some in a paper cup.

America concentrated on breathing. His head hurt, and the room wouldn't stop spinning. The twitching in his fingers was no longer from nervousness but from blood loss. Too much…Russia had taken too much.

Something made of paper touched his lips. Russia's fingers opened his mouth and the paper cup slowly slipped a tangy, sweet liquid into his mouth... Orange juice?

"This will help…" What was that look on Russia's face? Embarrassment?

"Ah…"

"Don't try to talk, please…" Russia looked panicked too.

Once the cup was empty, Russia slowly sat down on the couch and propped America's head on his lap.

"America…" America could barely hear him. "America…I'm sorry…"

America was vaguely of something soft touching his forehead. "Wha…?"

"A kiss…" Russia's voice cracked. Nervous? He sounded on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry…. this calms me down." Russia placed another gentle kiss on America's forehead. He ran his fingers through his America's hair. The motion made America realize how tired he was. Sleep sounded very good right about now.

"Please rest. I… I couldn't control myself. You are different…you are…"

America zoned out. Before he fell into complete unconsciousness, Russia's voice reached him.

"…please rest, my giver."

* * *

Longer chapter is longer?

Russia's had a taste of blood. Is this going to be enough or is America trapped? Find out next time!

As always reviews would be great. I love hearing what you all think. ^_^


	5. Chapter 5

I'm sorry for the long wait, guys. Been busy with school projects (art school is win) and such. I haven't forgot about this story in the slightest, so don't worry. ^_^

Thanks again to all you reviewers and favorite-ers. It means so much to me! You guys are awesome.

I don't own Hetalia, Twinkies, or any other copyrighted thing in this story. I think Jerry the waiter is still mine though.

* * *

America woke up in his own room. He could tell by his pillowcase. None of the other countries had a pillowcase with the American flag design on it. His neck was sore. Why was his neck so sore…?

Oh. Right.

That.

He jumped up from the bed covers; really he was tucked in quite nicely considering he normally knocked the sheets and bedspread all over the floor. As soon as his feet hit the carpet his head caught up with the movement, and America felt a serious head rush.

"Ugh…" The room spun for a moment, and America kneeled down waiting for the pounding to stop. When he could move again, he walked carefully into the bathroom and looked at his neck.

Nothing, just his usual smooth skin.

He poked his sore spot again. It hurt but any physical evidence on the outside of his skin of last nights events was nonexistent.

So…the pain meant it really happened, but no one could see the evidence.

"Yes!" America pumped his fist in the air in victory before getting another head rush and falling to the ground.

Moving through the breakfast line at the hotel, Russia spooned a generous amount of scrambled eggs on his plate. He smiled to himself, pleasantly content with his state of being. Russia felt good. Better than he had in a long time. He didn't want blood. He wasn't hungry for blood. He giggled to himself.

That didn't mean than he wasn't regular hungry though.

That was the other part of this "condition", always made him extremely hungry and gave his metabolism a boost, making him even hungrier.

With three full plates of food, he sat down at a small table off to the side of the hotel's dining area. Like the rest of the hotel, it was gorgeously decorated, with nice polished wood tables and plants along the low brick cafe wall. Why they put brick walls inside a building Russia couldn't guess, but right now, he just wanted to enjoy breakfast and make it to the meeting in time.

He watched the other hotel guests move about. Most of them in suits. Some talking at the front desk, others getting breakfast…He liked how normal it all felt. Normal wasn't something the Russian felt often.

"Russia!"

Russia's fork stopped half way to his lips. From all the way across the lobby came a yellow dash. It gleamed in the morning sunlight that poured through the windows.

"Here you are! How are you?"

Russia's face felt warm. "America…?"

"Hey." The younger country gave a grin. "Oh man, that looks good. Hang on, I wanna go get some food too. Be right back." The blond ran off.

Russia watched him. Honestly, he didn't expect America would want to talk to him after…

The American sat across from Russia and started eating, occasionally smiling at him. Russia felt his good mood fading. He felt a blush on his face. America kept eye contact with him. Worry and nervousness set in.

"So…"America began with a mouth full of bacon.

"America?"

He swallowed, "Yeah?"

Russia sighed, "Why don't you…leave me alone."

America's smile tilted down, "Huh?"

"I mean…I…uh."

"What, about yesterday?" Russia nodded, and America's smile returned.

"I said I'd help so here I am."

"I don't need you today though."

"Today?"

"Yes. I've had enough to suffice me for today and probably tomorrow."

"Okay, well, I'll be around when you do need me." The American took a gulp of orange juice and then coffee. Russia waited for him to leave.

He didn't. Russia started to feel antsy.

"Ready for the meeting today?"

"I…suppose."

"Hey, do you want to sit together? At the front of the table this time, okay? I hate sitting in the back. People can't hear me from all the way back there and-" America went off on a tangent. Russia pretended to pay attention, but was too busy wrapping his mind around the first part of the question. Sit together? So…America didn't hate him? He didn't hate him for taking so much of something so vital? For hurting him? For using him?

Russia guessed America would be different from the thieves and violent homeless people that normally quenched his thirst. America was full of life. He was bright, possibly the brightest part of Russia's whole existence. Not the best, but definitely the brightest. Even during the Cold War, he was like a constant light bulb. When America was happy, he was a bright yellow light. Their war made him burn a blinding white in the deep darkness, which intensified America's light ten fold. It hurt to look at. Russia's dark mind had a hard time adjusting to that light.

He was sure he still hadn't.

But taking some of America's blood, that was something new. Russia now not only saw the obnoxious light but felt it too. Understood it that much more. It…

"- which is why I think the next meeting should be in my States. I've got such a good idea for a meeting place that- WHOA! Russia! The meeting starts in five minutes! We gotta get moving!"

With a sweeping motion, America gathered up all the plates, his own two and all three of Russia's plus their drinks and took them to the dish drop off. Russia felt America rush by and run back, grab a hold of his coat sleeve, and make a mad dash for the meeting room.

They did sit together.

England quirked one bushy eyebrow at the strange sight. America looked relieved, finally at the front of the table, as he felt he should be, and Russia looked uncomfortable.

Russia's attention faded in and out. Being so close to America, put bluntly, freaked him out. They were enemies.

_Breathe, Ivan_. He reassured himself. It's America's hero complex. That's the only reason America's being so nice and letting him…

England rambled on about something or other and America took a glance at Russia. Russia had a funny blush on his face. Probably too hot with that coat on. Poor guy was probably too embarrassed to take it off in public. America reached under the table and took Russia's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Russia's eyes widened as America winked giving him a thumbs up with his free hand and mouthing, "It'll be okay, big guy."

Russia felt like he was going to pass out from embarrassment.

The rest of the meeting passed in the same manner. America would keep an eye out for any sudden movements on Russia's part, continuing to hold his hand and whisper encouraging phrases when no one else was looking. During break, America ran off to somewhere and came back with a box of Twinkies for him. Why Twinkies, Russia couldn't guess, but when he ate one to please the excited American, America laughed so hard he fell out of his chair, getting up to give Russia a strong pat on the back.

Nothing made sense.

By dinner Russia was hungry again. Russia actually was thankful for the hunger. It was normality in the strange mess that was the day. Jerry the waiter took their orders, all getting their usuals, much to the waiter's relief. As they waited, Russia gulped down his glass of vodka, hoping the alcohol would relax him.

No. It didn't. It' just made him feel warmer.

For the first time in his life, Russia wanted to be cold. He did not want to feel heat. That blush on his face seemed permanent as America insisted on sitting next to him during dinner too. France kept giving suggestive glances at Russia as if to as "Are you two…~?" Russia did not dignify that with a response.

The Star Spangle Banner started playing.

England choked on his tea as America pulled out his phone and read the caller ID.

The self-proclaimed hero addressed the group, "Be right back guys. Gotta take this."

England rolled his eyes. "Bloody git doesn't have any manners. I told him to turn his phone off during dinner."

France shrugged, "You were the one to raise him."

England jabbed the Frenchman in the gut with his elbow.

America stood in a hallway off to the side, in the dark near the rest rooms. He answered the phone.

"Hello! Hero speaking!"

"America?"

He turned away from the table and covered his mouth with his hand. Keeping a casual tone he replied, "Hey, Ukraine, what's up?"

He heard Ukraine give a sigh of relief, "You don't sound like chaos has broke loose."

"Nope! Got it all under control."

"My brother is doing okay?"

"Oh yeah, he's fine! We took a walk yesterday and sat together at the meeting today and all sorts of fun stuff."

"That's great to hear…" Ukraine kept her voice soft too.

"Why are you trying to be quiet…?"

"Oh, well, Belarus is here. I don't want her to know what's going on remember? And she's taking a nap. I don't want to wake her."

"Oh."

"And what about you, America?"

America was suddenly aware of many pairs of eyes staring at him from the table; thankfully he knew he was far enough away so no one could hear his conversation. "Oh you know, fancy restaurant England took us too. Gotta stay quiet."

"Right."

America watched as their food made it's way to the table, "Anything else I can help you with, ma'am?"

"I suppose not…"

"Great, well, I'm gonna go eat then and-"

"He hasn't…hurt anyone. Right?"

"Huh?"

Ukraine took a shaky breath. "Russia…he hasn't …"

America took focus off the food and back to the call. "Ukraine."

"Y-yes?" That tone…

"Russia is fine. He hasn't hurt anyone. I'm making sure of that."

America's determined tone was the most reassuring sounds in the world. Ukraine felt better. "Thank you, America."

"No problem. I'll keep watching him and keeping him safe."

A soft, happy sob was heard on the line, "Thank you, again, America…"

"Again, it's no problem. It's what hero's do."

The two said their goodbyes and hung up. America tried to replace his "serious business face" with is "food time oh yeah face".

Walking back to the table America switched his phone completely off.

* * *

Here's hoping there's not such a ridiculously long break between this and the next chapter. ^__^;;;

If you have a moment, reviews would be epic! As a teaser: there will be more blood next chapter...how/when/why?...find out next time.


	6. Chapter 6

Should I have gone to bed hours ago? Yes.

Did I? No.

I wanted to get this chapter up because school's gonna get crazy soon (3 projects + paper). In case there's a long pause between this and the next chapter, don't panic. I'm not dropping this story. I'm having too much fun to stop now.

I don't own Hetalia, no matter how late I stay up.

* * *

Russia leaned against the doorway to his room thankful the day was over.

Dinner had proceeded pretty smoothly when their food arrived and America came back to the table from his call. America was strangely normal the rest of the meal, the exception being that when he did come back, America gave him a clap on the shoulder, which the Russian shrugged off as rudely as he could. Maybe America finally took the hint. He was hungry, he felt funny all day, and he wasn't in the mood to be playing with America.

Now, he wasn't hungry. His stomach was pleasantly full of delicious food specially catered to each country (It had to be. The countries demanded that England hire people who actually knew how to cook). He shrugged off his coat and stared at the bed.

Sleep sounded really, really good.

With heavy feet, Russia dragged himself over and practically fell onto the bed, the soft comforter smothering his face. He didn't mind. Now all he had to do was close his eyes, relax, and wait for the blanket to get nice and warm from body heat.

_Knock, knock, knock-_

Or not.

Russia felt his eyes narrow, a menacing "kol" escaping from his throat. If that was who he thought it was heads were going to roll…

He didn't realize how tired he was until he got back up. The large country wobbled in place, minor head rush getting up, and walked over to the door. Russia put on the most frightening aura he could and opened the door.

France jumped and stepped back away from the door.

Russia's aura lessened. "France?"

"Ah….Uh…" France cringed. Maybe talking to Russia was a bad idea.

"What is is?" Russia slumped forward a little, not having the strength to stand up straight at the moment. France read the movement as intimidation and stuttered.

"W-well…I…Uh. I…I was just cur-curious." France debated making a run for it. Tired Russia looked absolutely terrifying. With the heavy winter coat gone, Russia looked strange, but combined with messy hair and a death glare when he opened the door, every cell in France's body told him to run. Well, except for the few cells that wanted to find out about…

"Curious about what?"

"You and…America."

"What?"

France relaxed a little. Russia's aura of death was depleting into nothingness. Time for an area more set to his expertise.

"You couldn't tell?"

"Tell what?"

"America was… flirting with you." A mischievous smirk played on France's lips.

Russia remained unimpressed. "No, he wasn't."

"Oh, come now! He was all over you with his eyes and attention. He took every chance he got to get you to notice him~"

"France?"

"Oui?"

"If that's all you came for, I'm going to slam this door in your face and go to bed."

France looked shocked for a moment.

"You- you do seem to need sleep. Very well," with a wink France turned and started to walk away, "We'll discuss this in the morning.~"

Russia sighed, too tired to give a reply.

*********

America was a freakin' genius! Why hadn't he thought of this sooner?!

England knew about all this weird monster mambo jumbo, right? He might have something to cure Russia!

America sat on a stool in a dark chamber beneath the hotel. Why the chamber was down here, America couldn't guess. Instead he watched England trace circles and stars into the floor with a piece of white chalk, mumbling to himself. Occasionally the older country would run over to a bookshelf and pull out one of the numerous, old, dusty volumes. Fifteen minutes of watching England do things that America didn't understand and then…

"Found it!"

"Really?!" America ran over to see inside the book. England pulled it away. "Hey!"

England wagged his finger in America's face. "Not until you tell me why you need a cure for Vampirism."

"I told you! I can't! It's a secret!"

"Well, then the answer will remain a secret."

"Oh c'mon, Iggy!" England flinched at the use of his nickname. "It's really important hero business."

"Is it really that important?" He could feel his will breaking.

"Yeah! Look, how about if this really works, I'll explain then?" After all, if Russia wasn't a vampire anymore, there wouldn't be a need to hid it, right?

England smeared some of the chalk with is foot. He sighed, "Fine."

England was sure the room got brighter by how America smiled. America hopped over and looked at the book, now open to him.

"You say you don't know the original vampire that bit this person, correct?"

"Yeah." Technically, there wasn't one…

England pointed to a passage in the book. "Here. It's a potion. It's supposed to get rid of vampirism…in most cases anyway. It can handle small to mild cases of vampirism. Though, on anything stronger than a mild case it has a strange side effect-"

"How long will it take to prepare?"

That might work. America nodded, both to England and to assure himself.

"About two hours."

"Sounds good."

Two hours of preparation.

Two hours of sleep.

That was not enough. Nowhere near enough. Russia glared at the door.

More knocking.

Russia groaned and pulled a pillow over his head.

America stood at Russia's door, potion in hand, him mind racing. How was he going to get Russia to drink this? Say "Oh hey Russia drink this and you won't be a vampire anymore! England made it!"

Yeah, that wouldn't work.

Then an idea hit. It was crazy, but the United States of America could do crazy quite well.

With one smooth motion, America popped the stopper off the potion bottle and chugged the entire thing. He cringed and shivered.

It tasted nasty!

Something smelled good.

Russia unburied himself from the pillows and covers and stared at the door. Did…did someone leave food or something for him? Was that room service that knocked a minute ago? Who would order him room service? And at this time of night?

Curiosity getting the better of him, Russia sat up and then stood. As he walked towards the door the good smell got stronger. His insides started to feel funny. His mouth watered and his tongue flicked across his lips eagerly.

This feeling…

Blood…

America heard the doorknob click. Russia and America stood and stared at each other.

America grinned, but the smile faded a little when he examined Russia's expression.

Russia's eyes were wide yet focused. His arms twitched and his breathing was heavy.

"Russi-" Was all America could get out before Russia grabbed the front of his shirt and flung him into the room.

America hit the floor with a thud. Russia walked over and knelt down to him, grabbing America by the shirt collar. The smell was coming from America.

"A…America."

"Yeah?" America held still. Something wasn't right…

"What did you…what did you do?"

Did this have to do with the…?

Russia wrapped his arms around America, pulling him into his chest. Russia's nose lightly touched America's collarbone. He took a deep breath.

Russia's mind swam. It was enticing, welcoming, and intoxicating. Whatever that smell was it was coming from inside America.

America took a deep breath. _Go one, big guy…Bite me! Take your meds!_

Shaky arms wrapped around America. Russia's mouth bit down on America's neck.

America cringed. It still hurt but Russia was…drinking….eagerly America held as still as possible. After a few moments, Russia pulled away and looked America in the eyes again. Deep red smeared around Russia's face. Was the potion kicking in?

"America…" Russia's voice was deep. America's insides flipped a little.

"Y…yeah?"

Russia's eyes drooped partially closed. "I…I don't know what you did…But you did do something…didn't you?" Russia chuckled. It sounded strange coming from Russia. A deep, rich chuckle from the man who normally giggled like a child.

"Uh…"

Russia leaned closer, but instead of going for the neck he went for America's lips. America froze. Russia's bloodly lips kissed him deeply, his hands rubbing America's neck affectionately. His hands then slipped down to America's sides. Russia moaned a little and pressed harder, his tongue licking America's lips. Shocked, the younger country gasped, allowing Russia in. America could now taste his own blood in his mouth.

This was…It was…

Russia didn't know what it was exactly. Something about America pulled him in, but a kiss? He felt his heart racing, and worried for a moment that it would fall out. To insure it wouldn't fall out, Russia pressed his chest tightly against America's since his hands were busy holding America.

America's "flavor" made him so happy. It was such a foreign feeling, yet delicious taste. How he went all day without a drop of America's blood, he couldn't guess. This was better than the first time. Russia pulled away, gulped air, and rammed his lips against America's. Was he being greedy? Yes. Did he care? No. He smiled a bloody smile against America's own bloody lips.

America squirmed and broke the kiss.

"Russia...! Do... you want a repeat of last time!?" America gasped for air.

Russia froze.

"I…I don't mind giving you my…." Head rush…was it from blood loss or Russia's sudden advances…? "My blood, just…"

America's voice cleared his head. He saw what he had done. America's face was covered in blood and, he was a few shades paler than before. Russia took America gently by the shoulders and hugged him, kissing his cheek.

"Thank you for stopping me."

America gave a nervous chuckle. Did it work?

"You are too delicious for your own good, America…" Another kiss, but on the forehead.

America waited. Russia continued to hug him, rocking slowly back and forth.

"America…?"

"Yeah…?"

"I feel different."

Yes! "Really? How?"

"…I…I am attracted to…I want…Would you…?"

Wait. "Huh?"

"I…don't think I could go another full day without your blood…" America felt a wave of fear sweep over him. "And…this." Russia pressed his lips to America's in a sweet kiss. "Can…I…?"

This wasn't right…

"Can I…?"

It didn't work…

"Can I drink more tomorrow?"

Darn it.

* * *

Good job, America. How are you gonna dig yourself out of this one?

If you could spare a moment, a review would be nice. Heck, they might even bring the next chapter faster...

OH! And I was thinking of doing a request for my 100 reveiwer, since it'll be the first time I've gotten 100 reviews. (SRSLY guys! You all rock so hard!!!) It's not set in stone yet but it's a high possibility. Just FYI...


	7. Chapter 7

My projects and paper are done! :D It was less painful than I thought so that was good. Thanks to you all who not only reviewed the story but also wished me luck on my school work. XD

Okay, slightly shorter chapter than normal, but I'm gonna try to make the next one longer. Promise.

I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

_No._

_No. No. No!_

_Why did he do this? Why did he always do this? Each one of his Givers always ended up like this, but he couldn't stop for the one that mattered to him?_

_Russia curled up, hugging his knees near the bed's headboard. He rocked back and forth in a daze, blood trailing all the way down the comforter, down to the floor._

_They would find out. The world would find out. Outrage, panic, violence…_

_All at the lost of something important._

_Russia slowly peaked over the bed at the floor._

_A bloody arm came into his vision. As if struck, he recoiled and hugged himself even tighter like a straight jacket would._

_Like the ones they always thought he would be in._

_No. Anyone but him. It wasn't possible. Russia knew deep down he could never kill him, even though they disagreed so much, and yet…_

_Russia looked at his hands. Dried blood stained his palms and fingers. His hand shook._

_Anxiety._

_What now? The world would soon be in chaos._

_And chaos he usually could accept, but a world without his Giver…?_

_Russia started crying quietly, sobbing to no one but himself._

_"Don't." He told the corpse on the floor._

_The air got cooler._

_"Don't." His voice deepened._

_"Don't die!" Russia slid off of the bed and crawled over to him._

_Disheveled blonde hair. A broken pair of glasses._

_Russia hugged him tightly. He felt the tears start again in his eyes at the thought that the man he was holding would never open his again._

_"I would give so much…to…" It hurt his throat to speak, as tight as it was from crying. "I would give up sunflowers….vodka… the summer….everything."_

_A cold, dead hand reached up and touched his face. Dead lips smiled weakly and groaned, "That won't be enough…."_

Russia nearly jumped out of his bed in a cold sweat. His heart raced as he looked at his surroundings. He was in his room.

No blood on the comforter.

No blood on his hands.

A dream.

Russia fell back against the pillows and took a deep breath to steady his heart, covering it with his hand to make sure it wouldn't fall out of his heaving chest.

A dream. A dream.

Wait. Where was?

"Oh, hey…"

Russia looked up and nearly passed out from joy. America gave him a nervous smile. "Mind helping me clean this up?" He pointed to his neck. Most of the blood was cleaned off, but the bite mark still present.

Russia blinked. "What?"

"The first time…you cleaned this up pretty good. I couldn't even tell except for the pain that it even happened. Can you do that again? I don't wanna have to explain this to the other countries…"

Russia, with his eyes still on America, afraid he would just fall over or disappear at any moment, reached over to a small bag on the floor by is bed and pulled out a small jar. Russia stood and walked over to America.

America stood in front of the bathroom mirror as Russia applied the…whatever it was.

"Hey, that's cold!"

Russia said nothing. The instant the medicine touched the wounds, they healed.

"What is that stuff anyway?"

Why did America insist on talking? Could he not see Russia was this close to having a nervous breakdown?

"It is a healing solvent I bought from an old gypsy years ago. Never have had to use it except for you…."

"Cause you….kill your "givers" right?"

Russia froze. "My what?"

"Giver? That's what you called me the fist time. I was meaning to ask you about that actually...Are you blushing?"

"Ah…" Yes. America payed attention to what he had said. Even after what he had done...

"Hey man, if you don't wanna talk about it right now that's fine I just-"

"Why do you care so much?"

America gave him a blank look and then smiled at him though the mirror, "I'm the hero!"

Of course…that was always why.

"I do not want to talk about it now."

"Sure…"

Russia then realized something. "What happened last night?"

America blushed a little that time. "Uh. Well, you….you fell asleep shortly after uh…"drinking"."

"You stayed…?"

"Yeah. I stayed. Slept on the floor. No way I'd go back to my room and risk getting seen with blood all over myself."

So America wasn't going to talk about the kiss then? Russia stared at the mirror and America followed his eyes to his own lips. America flinched.

So he did remember, just didn't want to bring it up.

"Well, last day of the meeting." America smiled and inspected his newly healed neck. He then went over and gathered up his coat. "I'll see ya later, okay?" And then he left.

Russia stared at the door.

America practically sprinted down the hall.

He ran into his room, changed and soaked himself in cologne (not having time for a shower) and made a mad dash down the hall to England's room.

"England!!!"

"Door's open!" America heard muffled from inside.

America walked in as calmly as he could, no reason to get England upset. England's room was furnished about the same as his room and Russia's room but more green instead of blue or red. The carpet was a little shaggier as well. _Eyebrows…_

England looked fresh out of the shower, dressed in a nice suit, straightening his tie. "What do you want, you git?" Eye's attached to monster eyebrows glared at him through the mirror's reflection.

"I need something for a severe case of vampirism."

England twitched, "What?"

"The potion didn't work. Or at least I don't think it did."

"You don't "think" it did?! You don't know!?"

"Well…it wasn't the reaction I was expecting."

England's eyes shot to America's neck. Nothing. He walked over and grabbed America's wrists. Not a scratch there either. He looked in America's eyes.

"United States of America" America flinched. Oh dang…His full name. He was in trouble…

"Y-yeah?"

"What is going on?"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

America thought of the previous nights events. Russia strange behavior, "giver", the kisses. "Honestly…I don't know."

America's eyes looked down. England could tell America wasn't messing around. He really needed his help. England sighed.

"After the meeting I'll look up something. No guarantees though."

America perked up. "Really?!"

"Yes. But only on the condition you tell me more about what the problem is or where it's coming from."

"But-"

"But nothing! I need more information in order to find the right cure."

Sometimes America couldn't fight logic. "…Okay."

Eventually everyone met up in the meeting room, Germany at the podium first. America looked around, where was Russia? Confused, America took his usual seat near the head of the table next to England and pretended he was listening to Germany's opening statements.

Fifteen minutes into the meeting Russia finally showed up. The other nations scowled at him.

"This is an important meeting Russia! Where have you been!?" England's eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.

Japan looked annoyed as well. "You could have at least been on time, Russia-san, like the rest of us."

Germany "hmph"ed and France gave a sly grin as Russia sat down next to him, the only available seat.

France leaned over near Russia, "Did he tire you out last night?"

Russia's fist flew up at impossible speeds and just barely missed Frances face. The blonde man flinched and tried to disappear into his chair.

The entire time, Russia's eyes never left America.

America gave him a wave, but something didn't feel right. Russia didn't wave back.

Germany coughed, "Well, now that everyone's here. Let's continue…"

One by one the countries took turns speaking. Some had nothing to say, like Russia. Others, like America, spent hours up at the podium. Eventually England declared break time. Russia shot out of his chair, grabbed America's arm, and lead him out the door.

France laughed delightedly and clapped his hands together.

Germany looked confused, as did most of the other nations.

England and Japan looked worried.

Russia shoved America down into a seat at the café in the hotel lobby.

"Ow! Hey!" America glared at Russia. "You could have just asked me to come down here with you!"

"America."

"Wha-…oh." Russia's eyes were a vibrant purple. His hand rubbed America's neck. America shivered. "S-Sure Russia, but not here okay….?"

"No, that's not it." Russia's stare was intense. America felt like he was being sucked into a back hole.

"Then what's up?"

"Will you…go to dinner with me?"

* * *

Once again, sorry the chapter's so short. How will the dinner "date" go? How much will England find out? And will France get his mind out of the gutter? (Heck no, it's France.) Find out next chapter!

If you have a moment, a comment/review would be epic. :D


	8. Chapter 8

Longer chapter is longer? If only a little...kinda...? Well, the actual chapter is. Derp. =___='''

Again, thanks to all of you who have faved this/ review this! :D It's what motivates me to get the next chapter up.

I'm doing the dinner date in two parts. Here's part one!

I don't own Hetalia, McDonald's, or any other copyrighted things. Anna the Waitress is mine though. I think.

* * *

The feeling hit right before the meeting.

At first Russia thought he only needed to eat breakfast. He smelled something delicious on his way to the café. With his round nose in the air, he took in deep breaths. His mouth salivated and his stomach growled. Besides the horrific nightmare, the morning started out pretty well. America did not hate him for what he did. That was good. Russia brushed his index finger across his lips musingly. Very good.

The closer he reached the café the more worry settled in. While in line for breakfast Russia realized that the smell, that delicious smell, wasn't coming from the food. His head started to hurt and he felt a little nauseous, like when he went too long without his vodka. His mind thought of what he would do a few months ago during his last attack. Lure one of the guests out to "help" him with something vague and-

He couldn't do that now.

He had his Giver now.

His Giver…

A large clock rang somewhere in the lobby. Russia looked at it and licked his lips. The meeting was starting. By the time he would get all the way to the meeting room, he would be late. Grabbing a muffin and shoving it down his throat, just as something to tide him over, Russia made his way to the fancy elevators.

As soon as Russia entered the meeting room he felt all the other countries starting at him, most of them with disdain. He didn't listen to them. Instead he locked eyes with America.

He wanted to say something. Anything.

Instead he said nothing and sat down in the only available chair, next to France. France said something to him. Not pay attention and acting on reflex, Russia's fist swung at impossible speeds toward the Frenchman's face. Russia's muscular arm was less than an inch away from smacking the perverted blonde into next week.

Russia watched America through the entire meeting. America sipped a soda he had brought in with him, and interjected his two cents whenever he could. Russia noticed America wasn't looking at him, unlike the previous day's meetings. America's eyes had a determined focus to them. He was planning something again. Not just something for the sake of say something like he did during meetings but actually making a plan of action of some sort.

Russia felt antsy. He wanted America to look at him, to notice him, to acknowledge him. America didn't do any of those things, almost blatantly ignoring him.

It angered Russia.

England took the podium. France caught his attention and pointed out into the hall. England nodded, turning back to the group, and announced break time. Russia, boiling in cold rage, stood up immediately, grabbed America, and practically ran down to the lobby.

Once the two of them were all the way back on the ground lobby level, America finally looked at him and Russia's frozen fury all but melted away. The look made him want to tell his secrets. Not "Russia's" secrets but "Ivan's".

_I have never left my Givers alive…_Russia took a deep breath through his nose. _Tell me: Is this what it's like to…?_

"You could have just asked me to come down here with you!"

"America." _Why have you been avoiding me today? Do you hate me for what I've done? Why are you so…?_

"Wha-…oh." America's neck was just as soft as he remembered. For a second, the pounding in his skull lessened. His hand stroked America's smooth neck. It was more comforting than he could imagine, better than any medicine, better than any amount of vodka or warm weather.

"S-Sure Russia, but not here okay…?" Russia was shocked. America knew…? No. Now wasn't the time.

"No, that's not it."

"Then what's up?"

Russia wanted to talk to America, if only to ask what he's thinking and to get some things off his own chest. America was complex, idiotic at times but complex. Either America was bipolar about helping people or he was planning something. This was something Russia needed to do, or risk making that horrific nightmare a reality.

"Will you…go to dinner with me?"

America straightened his tie and looked himself in the mirror. He was freshly showered, glad to get the gross feeling of not showering off his skin. Nice blue suit, white collared dress shirt, and an American flag designed tie. Yeah, he looked good.

He fumbled in his pocket for the slip of paper Russia slid him under the table when they got back to the meeting. It had an address on it. He looked it up on the internet and discovered that Russia was treating him to dinner at the most expensive, fanciest restaurant in all of London.

What the heck?

Normally, he would have preferred something a little less formal. America guessed that Russia wanted to talk, but he couldn't guess why such a fancy restaurant. They could talk at McDonald's! He would (metaphorically) kill for a burger right then! Nevertheless, America took a deep breath and, with one last check for his phone, keys, and wallet, left his room and headed for the cab waiting for him outside the lobby.

Russia twisted the white, satin tablecloth in his large hands. America would be there, across from him soon. He wasn't nervous about talking to America. Discussions had always been rocky between them for the past few decades so they learned rather quickly how to talk to each other without being to inquisitive nor pushovers. No, the conversation was the easy part.

The hard part was going to be not drinking America's blood right then and there.

His headache had intensified after the break time meeting, and now it was making a throbbing noise in his ears. He felt weak. Hungry. Starved.

One of Russia's hands continued to twist the tablecloth while the other rubbed his empty stomach.

_After dinner…_

A waitress appeared with America, who waved and gave his signature smile at Russia. Russia grinned.

"America…"

"Hey, big guy." America gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder and sat down in the other chair. The restaurant was amazing. The lights were dimmed down to almost darkness, casting the entire place in a warm glow. The chairs were unbelievably comfortable, but then again, anything was comfortable after sleeping on the floor and those hard, old meeting room chairs. The smell of food from the kitchen also caught America's attention. It smelled amazing. His tongue licked his lips.

The waitress gave the two of them a large, genuine grin. "Hello, my name is Anna and I am your waitress for this evening. May I get you two gentlemen something to drink?"

America flashed his hero smile, "A cola for me! Russia?"

"Vodka, please." Anna nodded and left to retrieve the drinks.

"So…" America, enjoying the atmosphere, turned his attention to Russia. "What's up?"

Russia sighed, but smiled at the same time. Quite the conversation starter. "Well, I'm having dinner with you."

"Yeah."

Russia shrugged. "Why do I always have to start our talks?"

"Because I don't know what you wanna talk about."

Russia put his index finger on his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. "Hm…I want to talk about you, America."

"Me? Like what? My blood type?"

Russia froze. "You…your-"

America laughed, "I'm kidding! Sheesh, Russia. Chill. It's okay, really."

"You….are taking this lightly?"

"No, it's just like I said. I trust you. Or at least I'm trying to. You're so cold, lighten up." Another warm smile. Russia blushed. He loved that smile.

The waitress came back and gave them their drinks. "Now, are you two ready to order?"

America glanced at the menu. After a quick scan he started, "I'll have-"

"He'll have the-" Russia's voice became a blur of foreign, non-English words. America had no idea what Russia was ordering for him. It seemed to be at least three dishes plus sides. The waitress scribbled as fast as her dainty fingers would go and nodded when done. "And you?"

Russia shook his head. "Nothing for me."

Anna looked confused, but shrugged it off. Nodding again, she dismissed herself to deliver the order.

"Dang that was a lot of food."

"I thought you would be hungry."

"How come?"

"You didn't eat anything for breakfast or during the meeting, surprisingly."

America rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I was thinking of a lot of stuff, you know?" Food had not been on his mind.

Russia leaned forward. "Like what?"

America took a long sip from his cola. "Like…" _How I'm gonna explain this whole vampire stuff to England so I can fix you_, "how I'm gonna help you. And stuff."

Russia looked taken back. "You were not ignoring me today?"

"What? No!" America gave him a weird look, "Why would I do that?"

Russia looked down at the table, and took up twisting the cloth again. "I'm not sure." So America wasn't ignoring him earlier? Russia felt some sort of weight released from his chest, and thankfully it wasn't his heart this time. America cared. He stayed the night before and didn't ignore him today because of it. America really…cared.

"…You okay?" America honestly looked worried. "You're pale…well, paler than normal."

"Huh?" Russia looked up. America looked him dead in the eyes. Sky blue met gem violet.

And Russia's heart fell out.

"Ah!" Russia quickly opened his coat to re-insert his heart, but it slipped out of his hand and bounced across the table. Russia bowed his head in embarrassment, holding his head in his hands. Really. Out to dinner with his Giver and-

His heart was back in his chest. Russia spotted an arm attached to the hand holding his heart in place. America gave him a warm smile.

"Need some help?"

America's warm hand gently pushed Russia's heart fully back into its hole. "There you go, big guy! Good as new!"

America sat back down in his own chair, still smiling. Russia felt tears swell in his eyes. Someone…His Giver had done something so nice for him. And as if it was something so normal! No screaming! No panic! No "Ew! That's gross"!?

America scanned the menus the waitress forgot to take with her. "So what exactly did you order for me-"

Russia leaned across the table and gave America a light kiss on the cheek.

Yes, controlling himself was going to be very difficult.

* * *

Two words: _After dinner..._

If you have a moment, a comment/review would be epic!


	9. Chapter 9

Getting to be that time of the year again, folks. And for many, it already has been.

FINALS! (AGAIN!)

I've got 2 more weeks til summer vacation. Twelve hours in the car driving back home and by that I mean playing Pokemon SoulSilver while my dad drives me home. I wanted to get another chapter up before all heck breaks loose (again).

I still don't own Hetalia.

* * *

Anna returned with another waiter, their arms balancing plates. Hot strands of stream floated up from the food. A strong smell of spices and warm food hit America like a bullet. His stomach growled in anticipation. America's mouth dropped open, Texas slipping a little down his nose. Russia ordered so much freakin' food! There had to be at least seven different plates, all of which were piled high with food that smelled amazing. Anna and the waiter placed down the carefully balanced plates with expertise in front of America.

"Is there anything else I can get you two?" Anna gave them both a warm smile.

Russia answered, "No, thank you."

"Enjoy your meal." Anna gave them a nod before leaving.

"…Enjoy your meal?" America repeated in a hushed, unbelieving tone. "How could I not! Russia, this is amazing!"

Russia blushed. America was visibly shaking. He smiled a crooked smile and reached for his fork. A drop of saliva dripped down America's chin. Russia giggled to himself. America probably felt like how he did right now.

America suddenly looked at Russia. "Hey, Russia?"

"Da?"

"You sure you don't want anything?"

"…da. Eat." Russia gave America a weak smile. _Not now..._

America didn't waste any time, digging into his food with gusto. Steak and chicken grilled to perfection, various vegetables cooked various ways, breads of all kinds, pasta, the list went on… America wanted to eat all of it. It all tasted delicious. Sure, it wasn't hamburgers but dang it was good!

Russia watched America eat, his little slip up kissing America long forgotten, by America anyway. Russia's lips still tingled from the warmth of America's skin. He blushed remembering the way America had blushed and rubbed his cheek. Now, America was happy, and he was happy.

The people seated at the tables around them looked concerned. America attracted a lot of unintentional attention as he ate, but Russia knew this was just how America ate, especially when he was hungry. Would America have been just as happy eating at a fast food place than here? Probably, but the quality of the food, hence the price, here was so much better. Russia's stomach twitched in hungry pain. _Soon..._, Russia reassured himself. He directed his attention back to America, violet eyes watching with utmost concentration, as if America would choke or run away or something.

America eventually slowed down but still eating at a steady pace and making "Mmmm" noises. His smile was wide and genuine. Food had always been a weak spot for him. He missed his younger days when meals were home cooked, and not car-accessible. Not the trash England made, but the first foods of his people. Classic dishes only made and served the same way around the holidays, but even then it was hard to get the same home cooked meal anymore. Convenience over quality. He loves his fast food beyond all reasoning but non-microwaved food...pure awesomeness.

This was the closest to a true home cooked meal he had eaten in years.

After about thirty minutes, America slumped down in his chair, his stomach painfully full and a smug smirk on his face. All seven plates were empty.

Russia leaned forward, his chin on his palms, elbows on the table. "Enjoy your meal, America?" he asked softly.

"Oh yeah…" America patted his stomach, grinning in victory. "That was great." Russia noticed America's eyes flickered close every now and then.

"Tired?"

"Yeah…Heh…"

Russia caught Anna as she was walking by and asked for the check. A moment later she returned and Russia slipped a credit card into the check book.

"Hey…!"

Russia raised his eyebrows, "America, I am treating you. I am paying."

"But you didn't eat anything!"

Anna came back and handed the card to Russia. Before America could protest anymore Russia stood and pulled him out of his chair.

America wobbled and leaned on Russia. His head felt a little fuzzy, and his body didn't want to move. It was just like after every thanksgiving. _I ate too much...Food coma…_ Sleep sounded so good, and, heck, he would wake up feeling ten times better. He just knew it. So that was that. As soon as he got back to his room, sleep it was.

Russia looked down at him, his eyes gleamed a dark violet, "Let's go, da?"

America's eyes snapped open. That tone…that deep tone. The wheels in America's mind began to spin, waking him a little bit. Russia's voice…His tone…Russia wanted blood.

The two walked back to the hotel. The lobby and elevator were empty for the night except for a desk worker typing in at a computer and three chatty cleaning ladies. The two made their way to the glass elevators. America's room was closer than Russia's but, just as America thought he would, Russia led them both to his room. Russia slid his key card and the door clicked open.

America played along, "Your…room?"

"Da… my blankets are more comfortable." A weak excuse Russia knew but America was barely conscious.

Or so Russia thought.

The small living room area was dark. The couch, table, and lamps barely were barely visible. Thankfully America remembered how the room looked like in the day with the lights on so he knew where to go without bumping into furniture. As soon as he got to the bedroom he turned on the light, slipping his coat off and removing his tie and shoes. Zombie like, America plopped down on the bed, slowly pulled the covers over him, pretending to fumble and sway with exhaustion, and rolled onto his side. Russia stood silently in the door way. With a click the light went out. "Good night, America…"

"Mmngh…'Night…" And the game began.

Step one: Slow breathing.

America waited a couple of minutes before pretending to breathe slower, which was hard to do. Anticipation, or was it anxiety, wanted to control him but if he wanted to be sneaky he had to control them!

Step two: Door opens.

He waited for the click of the door opening. Since it was late at night and the lights were off in the entire hotel room, seeing a flick of light to indicate the door opening was not going to happen. Ten minutes after he had "fell asleep", he heard the click.

Step three: Bite.

America knew what Russia wanted, and part of America was angry about it. Why couldn't Russia just ask? He was willing to help Russia, dang it. Russia had no reason to be sneaky about things like this. Still pretending to be asleep, America rolled onto his back and slightly leaned his head further back on the pillow, making his neck more accessible. The other part of him was calculating. Russia had said he wanted to talk, but during dinner they didn't really talk much at all. Maybe Russia couldn't find the right words for what he wanted to tell America? Maybe he was shy? Maybe big, tough Russia was actually really shy?

America felt a pair of hands softy grip his shoulders. Careful not to lose his disguise, America concentrated on breathing and laying still. He felt Russia's breath on his collar bone and neck, resisting the urge to shiver. America was thankful for how dark the room was. Russia would not be able to see the blush on his face. Man, it was hard to think straight with someone literally breathing down his neck.

Russia's hand traced the side of America's neck before returning to hold America down. America's neck was so smooth. It made Russia's mouth water like crazy. After eating all of the food he had ordered, America's blood was rich with more nutrients than he could possibly hope for. Not being able to contain himself any longer, Russia began his dinner.

Russia's lips touched America's neck gently before Russia bared his teeth. He bit down as softly as he could, just enough to break the skin.

Russia drank.

His hunger pains melting away with each sip. The uncomfortable knot in his stomach loosening with each drop of blood. Russia's tongue lapped at the cut, taking any and all of the delectable red liquid that came out of it. Russia smiled against America's neck. He suddenly felt greedy and began to suck at the bite. The blood came faster now, and Russia leaned even closer, his body climbing onto the bed. Russia's upper body hovered above America's, his legs curved out to the side. The entire day's worth of pain and hunger was slipping away.

America twitched a little. America forced his mouth to stay closed, holding back the gasp he wanted to let out. He felt hot all over. Russia lips and tongue tickled his neck, sucked at his neck, and licked his neck. It was…a lot to take when he was pretending to be asleep.

Russia noticed the change in America's breathing patterns. America's heart was beating faster than before. A flash of worry swept Russia's face in the dark. Before he could back off the bed, America's arm wrapped around him.

"Eat…This is your dinner isn't it?" America's voice came out as a whisper. Russia's face burned up. America knew?

America pulled Russia closer, chest to chest. "It's okay…just don't take too much." Russia, still in shock about being caught, felt America relax.

America felt Russia return to his neck, lapping, kissing, sucking. It felt good. Very good. America's tired body liked the feel of Russia's soft lips, tongue, and fingers on his skin. America's hands gripped the blankets for support, to keep them off of Russia.

Eventually, Russia stopped and laid down next to America, licking America's blood off his own lips.

"Enjoy your meal, Russia?" America turned and smirked at him, barely seeing the bigger country in the dark.

"Da…" Russia closed his eyes and folded his arms over his stomach.

"Tired?"

"Da…"

"…You know something?"

"…Hm?" Russia's eyes stayed closed.

"Neither of us have had dessert yet."

Russia opened his eyes and quirked his eyebrow at America. America twisted away and reached to the bedside table on the other side of bed. Just like he thought it would be, America found what he was looking for.

Russia's vodka bottle.

"America…I don't want-" Russia stopped mid-sentence as soon as he saw America turn back to him and pop the top of the bottle off. America took a swig of it and quickly rammed his lips onto Russia's. Russia's eyes widened in shock and his mouth opened. The vodka flowed from America's mouth into Russia's, along with America's tongue.

Gulping down the vodka, Russia's senses went into overdrive. Their tongues twisted together in his mouth. America's breath smelled of vodka. America's arms wrapped even tighter around him, and his own hands slid under America's shirt, across America's chest, and up and down America's sides. Their tongues wrestled back and forth, tasting vodka and the remnants of blood. America felt dizzy. Vodka was a bit stronger than what he was used to drinking and...he really, really liked kissing Russia. As far as he could tell, Russia liked it too.

America smirked a little when Russia moaned. America reached for the bottle and took another mouthful, which Russia gladly accepted when they kissed again. The vodka tasted like America. It made Russia's mind swim, his heart race, and his body burn. America, blood, and vodka at the same time…It was truly the sweetest taste he had ever experienced.

America broke the kiss much to Russia's dislike and nuzzled Russia's collar. "We need ta talk tomorrow, okay? I don't…don't think you're tellin' me everything I need ta know."

Russia noticed the slight slur in America's words. "…Alright." Russia ran his fingers through America's soft blond hair, "Goodnight, my Giver…"

Smiling a little drunkenly, America kissed Russia's nose, "G'night."

* * *

First "date" is over. So now what? Will America figure out a way to help Russia? Will Russia open up to America? Will France continue to be a pervert?

Find out next time!

If you have a moment, a review would be great. I love reading comments! :D


	10. Chapter 10

I AM HOME! Oh em gee.

So, just as a word of warning. This chapter has a slight FrUk undertone. It can be ignored due to circumstances but to those who like that pairing...

I don't own Hetalia. I will own a copy of the DVD and manga when it comes out in September, though! :D

* * *

To be honest, America freaked out a little waking up next to Russia.

He was also surprised that Russia could be so warm. Russia's arms wrapped around America's torso from behind, Russia's chest to his shoulder blades. America felt like he was pressed against a warm wall. A peak over his shoulder showed Russia asleep and smiling.

It was…cute.

It was an honest smile, not the fake one he put on just to make others happy. That smile and his slow, steady breathing made America think twice about getting up. Should he get up and risk waking Russia? America sighed, he had to. He had to get up and start the day. America planned on meeting up with England to find a cure for Russia's vampirism that actually would work and not make Russia go…crazy...so often.

America wiggled a little, and Russia hugged him tighter, mumbling something in Russian. America slowly picked at Russia's fingers, sliding out inch by inch and replacing himself with a pillow.

On the tip of his toes, America snuck into the bathroom and checked for bite marks. They were faint, not really noticeable unless someone was looking for them. He had no idea where Russia kept that medicine so they were just gonna have to stay as is for the time being.

America wasn't surprised to see England already at work when he arrived at the "workroom".

France, seated at a small table along the wall, smiled at him as he came in. "Good morning, dear America."

"Mornin'," America mumbled, staring at England.

The Englishman himself was surrounded by books. He sat on the floor, eyes skipping from page to page, book to book. Dark crescent shapes marked under his eyes suggested England had not gotten sleep. At least twenty pages of notes in a language that certainly wasn't English were scattered around. France sighed.

"He's been at it all night…"

America walked over, careful not to step on any of the pages or books. He shook England's shoulder.

"England?"

"What?" England snapped. He didn't look up from his work.

"Uh…."

"I'm busy, America! What is it?"

"I…I just wanted to see how…how things were going…"

England gave a frustrated growl. "Bloody brilliant! What does it look like? I've been up all bloody night! Haven't found any bloody answers! And you bloody come in here to bloody ask how I bloody am!"

America's eyes grew wide. "I-I didn't-"

"America, how about you get us all something to eat?" France stood from his seat and looked at America. "England is in a mood, _oui_? We do not need him tired and hungry."

"Oh," America thought for a second. Food made people happier, so France's logic made sense. "Sure…I'll go get some…donuts or something."

England scoffed, "Bloody Donuts! I'm trying to do bloody research and you're going to buy bloody donuts!"

France sighed, shaking his head. He turned back to America, "Whatever is fine. It can't be as bad his food…"

England didn't hear that apparently, since there was no retort, but America nodded and headed back to the street to find a bakery.

France leaned against the wall. "He was only trying to help."

"Well, I don't need his bloody help. He needs mine!"

France chuckled; sometimes England was too paternal for his own good. "How is the research then?"

England rubbed his oversized eyebrows, "Not good. None of the characteristics America gave me match up with the records I have. It would help if I had the live example to work with."

France looked shocked, "A real vampire, you mean?"

"Yes. But they tend to keep to themselves. Besides I have protective spells on myself that prevents vampire attacks, so they would not be interested in me anyway."

France rolled his eyes. "You and your magic…"

England froze, "….That's it."

"What's it?"

England had a strange glint in his eyes, "My magic!"

"What about it…" France didn't like that look.

England ran over to a table covered with bottles of potions. He picked a beaker and started mixing.

"Seriously, though…" France smiled nervously, "What-"

England swirled the concoction in the beaker. "Francis…."

"_Oui_?"

"Let's make a deal…"

America wondered the London streets. Getting away from the countries and their problems, being able to pose as a random guy on the street… it was nice. He wondered for a moment if Russia felt like that sometimes? Then again it would be hard for him. Always dressed for snow and he was just so freakin' tall…he naturally drew attention that he didn't always want.

And yet Russia was lonely.

Yeah, that had to be why…why America had kissed him last night.

He was sympathetic for Russia, sorry for Russia, and not at all attracted to-….to….

America blushed. _Man…Russia sure could kiss though…_

America slapped himself. _Don't think like that, Jones! You're just trying to help him get better. Vodka kisses were totally... part of... that. Yeah!  
_

…Weren't they?

America looked up at the crowd, as if it would answer. Instead it moved along, chatter and car engine sounds drifted into his ears. Across the street was a bakery. A French bakery actually. America smiled; at least he didn't have to think on an empty stomach now.

America stepped down the stairs to England's work room. The last thing he expected was to see France kissing England's neck but sure enough…

"What the heck?" America dropped the two bags of donuts he had bought.

England sighed, but held still. France licked England's neck. Trails of England's blood were visible. "I needed a test subject so-"

"So you turned France into a vampire!"

"Only temporarily. The deal was that he could have some of my blood of he worked with me." England cringed as France made a new bite mark. "Hey! I said you could have three bites!"

France groaned lustfully, "But, _mon cheri_, your blood…it is delicious!"

"I said three!" England jumped up and walked away, France almost falling on his face at the sudden movement.

He sulked. "I'm still thirsty…"

"Deal with it." England looked back at America. "Donuts?"

"Uh…sorta. They had pastries and stuff so I got a bunch of those."

England sighed and gave America an apologetic look. "Give me one…"

America handed England the bag and looked back over at France. Everything about France, except his clothes, seemed…discolored. His normally golden hair was pale and brittle looking. Likewise his skin was a chalky white, lacking the radiance it normally had. France was shaking a little his eyes never leaving England's neck. His tongue darted out and licked at the blood around his mouth.

"France, come here. I need you to do something."

"O-of course, _mon cheri_…" The Frenchman stood and walked over to England.

America watched in wonder and, at the same time, horror. France looked like…well, a monster. The two stood at the potion table. England had moved his books and papers onto it. A perverted monster. His arm wrapped around England's waist, and returned no matter how many times he batted it away. France's chin rested on England's shoulder, every now and then his tongue attempted to lick at England's neck.

Vampire France was nothing like Russia.

Russia was always (relatively) calm about his problem and his skin and hair didn't change tones either. France just seemed…well, like a pervert with a skin condition who needed to wash his hair. Maybe that was just because it was France, who knew?

Someone knocked on the door at the top of the stairs.

France backed off England as he walked over. A cloaked figure came down the stairs and spoke to England in a hushed voice. England nodded a few times before the figure left just as quietly as he had came in.

"What was that?"

"I need to tend to some business," England glared at France and then turned to America. "Both of you stay here and behave yourselves. I'll be back shortly." England started up the stairs.

A wave of panic struck America, and he ran after England. "But-"

"But nothing!" England leaned close, "I need you to watch France for me. He's…still getting used to the potion. You're strong, you can handle him."

"I…I…." America doubted he could handle a perverted vampire.

England sighed. "Fine…" He called over to France. "France! If you behave I'll let you have…two more bites."

France's eyes grew wide, a sick smile on his face. "Ah…_Oui!_ That sounds wonderful. I'll be on my best behavior."

"You'd better…" England looked at America. "There, okay? I'll be back shortly."

And then England left. A ray of sunlight flashed down the stairs as the door opened and shut. France hissed at it and backed away into the shadows.

America thought back to that morning, warm, comfy Russia. And now…

France looked at him and smiled.

Fangs.

* * *

Alone with vampire France... Any volunteers? XD

If you have a moment, a review or comment would be nice. :D


	11. Chapter 11

Longer chapter is definitely longer. Not the longest I think, but up there...

Summer break is slow time, huh? Anybody else playing on the internet, job searching, and playing Pokemon? *raises hand* Anyone?

I don't own McDonald's, Hetalia, or...well, anything really. My art? Hrm...

* * *

America felt cornered.

Well, he wasn't technically cornered. People generally didn't call standing still in the middle of a room "cornered". Then again, most people were not trapped with a perverted vampire like he was.

Freakin' Vampire France.

Lucky for America, France seemed tired. His eyes were downcast, and he sat slumped in his chair, groaning occasionally. America eyed the bag of pastries he dropped when he returned. Food would make France feel better, right?

Or…dig him deeper into the hole he placed himself in.

"Hey…Uh…France?"

Another groan.

America picked up the bag. "Do you…want a donut? Or a pastry or…something?"

France looked up. For lack of a better word, he looked sick. Like "the economy is down" sick. Bedridden and fed chicken noodle soup, saltine crackers, and Sprite sick. What the heck was in that potion England gave him?

"Mon cheri…I do not feel well…" His voice, normally velvety, was scratchy and hiked at strange places. "My throat is so dry I cannot stand it…"

America felt his skin turn paler. "O-oh."

"I…I also feel nauseous." France nodded toward the pastries. "Ever…ever since you brought those things in."

America looked at the bag. He was sure he bought them at a French bakery, the bag even said so! "But…they're from a French bakery. They should be fine."

"Oui…they smell fine but the thought of eating…ugh…"

America's detective skills went off again, like some sort of red flag. "So…you're not hungry?"

"Non…" France shook a little, "I have no appetite what so ever."

But Russia did.

It was even one of Ukraine's signs. Russia always was hungry when "this" happened to him. He had even seen it firsthand, eating that steak, getting breakfast and dinner together…

America felt an arm wrap around his waist.

He looked to his left and met France eye to eye. France's chin rested on his shoulder, a weak smile on his face, but his eyes showed a lot of pain. America felt his own pulse quicken. Fangs…Those fangs were the only things he could think of. Sharp, gleaming, and covered in France's saliva.

France's pale hand gently stroked America's neck. "America…dear Alfred…"

No, no, no, no-!

France leaned in, his mouth opened so slightly, "There is no need to explain myself, is there?" Another touch from his hand, "May I…?"

"N-no!" America wiggled in Frances grasp, which had tightened around him. "When England gets back-!"

"When England gets back he will find out about these lovely marks." France's index finger traced one of the bite marks Russia had made. "They are so pale, I almost didn't see them…They are bites from the vampire you are trying to heal, yes?"

Oh no…America paled even more, his heart jumped around in his chest up to his throat. Russia…France couldn't find out about Russia!

France's finger moved to trace another mark. "So many…he must really like you? Some of these marks, they don't look like bites, rather they look like…" France chuckled, "Hickeys."

America blushed.

"I've been watching you for the past few days. You and Russia have gotten very close, oui?"

Dang it! Dang it! Dang it! America held as still as possible as France talked. _C'mon Jones! Give no sign he's right!_

"Could it be that-"

"Shut up!" America had enough. France stopped talking and gave America a quizzical, if not amused look. "I'm not…gonna deny or admit to any of that! Look, I've got it handled, okay?"

"Then why did you come to England for help?"

"Uh…"

"You did not want to do your own research?" France leaned in and breathed on America's neck, "Or did you want your dear Papa in as a security blanket?"

"Shut-shut up!"

"Non…," France's hands took a hold of America's. "You never were going to tell England, were you?"

"…" Maybe after this was all over…If Russia was okay with that.

"I won't tell…If…," France's lips barely touched a spot of unbitten skin on America's neck. America shivered.

"No."

"Oh come now, dear Alfred…One little bite, a little blood. And England will never know…"

"N-NO! I'm not going to fall for blackmailing!"

America risked a look at France, and a twitch of fear and pity hit him. France, even if he naturally was creepy, was never like this to him. This had to be another part of that concoction England made. France looked a mix between bloodthirsty, manipulative, and …

Intense pain.

America silently cursed his hero complex. He wanted to help his "other dad" but he couldn't like this. Letting France drink his blood would more than likely cause way more problems than fix them and if he didn't let France drink his blood England would find out about Russia and… Ugh. Between a rock and a hard place…

France licked America's neck and sighed contently. "Delicious…Russia is very lucky, oui?" America cringed as he chuckled darkly. France's tongue was cold, nowhere near as warm as Russia's.

Anger boiled in America's chest. Dang it, all he was doing was try to help, and France was totally taking advantage of that! _That's it!_ America was a split second away from using his inhuman strength to shove France into the wall!

But he was gone.

America felt the strange rush of suction in the air as something hit France and did the shoving for him.

"…MATTIE?"

Canada, appearing out of nowhere, smiled shyly at him. "Hey, Al." The Canadian cracked his knuckeds, his hands slightly sore from the punch.

"Where the heck have you been?"

Canada frowned, "I've been here the entire time…" He looked down at France, unconscious on the floor. "He's not normally like that…usually. I'm sorry."

America looked at France and then back to Canada. Man_…I've been away from the family for too long._

"Hey…does that mean you heard about…?"

"Yeah." Canada nodded, "I won't tell anyone. And neither will Kuma. Right?" The Canadian looked over his shoulder at his polar bear, who sat at one of the tables.

"Who?"

"Canada."

"Oh. Sure."

America smiled and gave his brother a hug. "Thanks, Mattie. I…I kinda need to check on Russia though, okay?"

"Yeah." Canada nodded and motioned to France again. "I'll take care of Papa."

"You're not gonna let him..?"

"Non…" Canada whispered, though he looked away in embarrassment. "I'm sure England will help with…that, right?"

"Yeah…Just keep him K.O.'d until Iggy gets back."

"Right." The two exchanged nods and America ran up the stairs into the daylight.

Russia was up and about when America arrived at the room. He knocked, since he didn't have a key to Russia's room, and Russia opened the door with wet hair and no shirt. Thankfully he had pants on. The room's air was dense from post shower condensation, and a wave of the humid air hit America as the door opened.

"America!" Russia bear hugged him in the doorway.

America blushed like mad, his clothes getting soaked from Russia's wet chest, "H-hey there, big guy."

"Where have you been?" Russia pulled him inside and honestly looked worried. America, for a moment, found it funny. This was the same Russia who only a few decades ago wanted his head on a platter.

"I've been…" Dang it! He forgot to think of a reason!

Russia's face flashed concern for a moment before brightening up. "Well, I have missed you, da?" Russia grabbed America's hand and led him into the room. "I thought maybe…Ah…" Russia blushed.

"Thought what?"

"I thought we could go and get some breakfast together, da?" Russia gave a weak, embarrassed smile. America glanced at his watch. Was it really only 9:00? Felt later than that.

"America…?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sure." America laughed lightly and Russia beamed at him. America's smile grew. Russia was so happy. Had he ever been this happy before? America honestly couldn't think of a time.

Russia finished getting ready and the two ordered breakfast at a nearby McDonald's right before their breakfast time was over. America planned on pulling the "Oh c'mon! It's like only 5 minutes past breakfast!" card but it wasn't needed, thankfully. America was also thankful that Russia suggested McDonald's instead of him dragging Russia there. The two then walked to a nearby park. The trees were all vibrant green and swayed gently in the cool, calm morning breeze. America noticed other people staring at them, and when he thought about it, he probably would have stared too. Here he was with his arms full of McDonald's, one of his arms hooked around one of Russia's. Russia was still smiling; it made him smile too.

Russia pointed at a park bench. "Let's sit there."

America put the bags down and gave Russia a sandwich once they had sat down. America picked one out for himself and took a bite. Not as good as back home, but still freakin' good.

The two ate in silence. The bench was secluded away from the more populated areas of the park, the only noise coming from the occasional pedestrian or bird, and the distant noise of traffic. London was still London.

Russia folded up his wrapper and tossed it in the bag. America crumpled up his and grinned. "Ah…that was good wasn't it, Ru-"

Russia's lips touched his neck.

America took a steady breath. So Russia wanted some blood too? America was thankful Russia was not going to bite on the side France licked earlier. Russia wrapped himself around America and bit down, sucking at the cut like he always did. With practice, Russia knew when to stop and after a few minutes, Russia loosened his hold and looked America in the eyes.

America laughed nervously, "Heh…enough for you, big guy?"

Russia's eyes closed half way and he smirked. "Nyet."

Russia reached into his pocket and pulled out the jar of healing gel. He unscrewed the lid and pulled America in. Their lips met and America felt his insides melt. Russia's lips moved slowly, yet in a demanding way that kept almost all of America's attention. Had the gel not been slightly cold, he would not have noticed anything other than Russia's kiss. Russia's free hand, the one not holding onto America, rubbed the gel onto the bite. America sighed, it all felt so good! The gel's calming, cold touch healing the wound, an already weird sensation, and Russia's warm,welcoming lips…He had never been kissed like that before. Last night, he had control. Russia was under his thumb, but with the roles reversed, that's different. Way different. Dang it, America couldn't help it.

He moaned.

Loud.

Like, really loud. Like, embarrassingly loud. Like, oh-my-gosh-I-hope-no-one-was-around-to-hear-that loud.

Russia broke the kiss and stared.

And then laughed.

"It-It's not funny!" America felt the heat radiating off his face. From embarrassment and their kiss.

"I am sorry, America. I did not know you were so sensitive. I suppose I should…ah, "ease up", next time?"

"N-no!" Dang it! Dang it! Dang it!

"Oh?" Russia leaned close, "Again, then?"

"N-"…Dang it. "Not right now."

Russia grinned at him. It was less innocent than the smile he had earlier, but then again, America kinda liked it. Russia took America by the shoulders and pulled him against his chest again, hugging him. America sighed, glad Russia couldn't see how…content he was being there.

"Thank you, America. Breakfast was very nice, da?"

"Yeah…"

Russia started running his fingers slowly through America's hair. "I was hungry this morning…"

America blushed. "I can tell."

"I really…like you, America."

"Because I let you bite me?"

"Nyet, you care."

America felt a twitch of guilt. "Your sisters care."

Russia shivered. "N-nyet. Not like this."

_Well, there's your crazy sister…, _America thought. _And besides I…_

"I…I am glad I can trust you, America. I do trust you."

America felt his smile disappear. "…Russia."

"Hm?" Russia looked him in the eyes.

"I…" _Other people know._

Russia giggled, "Your eyes are the same color as the sky."

"I…." _I let them figure out…_

"Or…is the sky the same color as your eyes?"

_I haven't figured out how to save you yet._

"Hm…Maybe it's both?"

_I've been keeping my plan away from you and then everybody's been finding out and-_

"Oh!...You said you wanted to talk?"

Out from one corner and into another.

* * *

*Digs a deeper hole for America* Russia's gonna find out and all heck's gonna break loose...

Oh France, why are you so difficult to make look helpless and not like bad guy? XD... And in case you couldn't tell, I really like the FACE AU. Most dysfuntional family. Ever. Or at least one of the top ten. LOL Actually when I was thinking of this chapter, I was thinking of where everybody was. I got to Canada and thought, "...Where IS Canada?" XD Turns out he just saved Alfred's sorry backside.

If you have a moment, a comment would be nifty. I like having my inbox filled with review notices!


	12. Chapter 12

Hey, everybody!

Just as a heads up, I'm thinking this story will be done in three or four more chapters. After that I'm going to concentrate on A Subtle Change and the list of one shots I need to do...Also: THANK YOU ALL SO FREAKING MUCH FOR 200+ REVIEWS! I never thought I'd get that many. XD Kinda sad this story's only got a few chapters left.

I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

Russia really was hungry that morning.

It was strange. Being around America so long seemed to affect his need. On one hand, he didn't crave as much blood as he had before. Yes, he still wanted some (and at a higher frequency than what he used to need) but he now had another channel that relaxed him just as well: kissing.

Russia really liked kissing America. Maybe that is the big deal romantic movies make about kissing. It was soothing, touching mouth to mouth with someone else, yet exhilarating at the same time.

Much like drinking blood.

America was so soft, yet strong. He was happy, so self confident, and warm.

Pretty much Russia's opposite.

Maybe they were like magnets. America was a positive. Russia, the negative. They attracted each other and stuck together as equals.

Unless one of them was weakened.

Maybe one of them needed to be weakened? Is that what happened with the War? They were too strong, their ideas and weaponry too much to handle, and clashed? Becoming a force that threatened to consume the entire globe? But if one of them needed to be weakened, which one?

America had then come back to the room and interrupted his thoughts.

The walk to the park was nice. The air was warming but the breeze was cool, perfect for making his scarf an acceptable article of clothing. Likewise, the bench was ideal. It was a safe distance away from the main path in a secluded area of the park, perfect for some private time.

America seemed to be getting used to their little system, and Russia liked that too. To humor America he went ahead and ate the breakfast sandwich from America's favorite fast food joint. America's blood was a much better meal, and he enjoyed it thoroughly, but their kiss was what made him truly happy. No one, not his sisters, not the Baltics, absolutely no one else could make him feel that good. In those instances Russia felt like he was no longer the frozen madman everyone thought he was. And America cared.

America cared.

That was enough for him to be happy.

America had been acting a little strange though. He kept stuttering and averting his eyes. Russia loved his eyes. That sky blue…

"Your eyes are the same color as the sky."

America stuttered.

"Or…is the sky the same color as your eyes?"

More stuttering.

"Hm… Maybe it's both?"

America looked…embarrassed, and a thought hit Russia.

"Oh!... You said you wanted to talk?"

America froze, and then shouted out words Russia didn't want to hear.

"They know!"

America's chest heaved. There! He said it! He freaking said it! Unfortunately once America's mouth opened, it worked like a flood gate. Everything rushed out.

"They know! France knows! Canada knows! Canada's stupid bear knows! I'm trying to get a cure for you but I thought I needed England's help but he isn't helping and he turned France into a vampire but he's different than you and then France tried to bite me and Canada saved my sorry butt and oh-gosh- England might find out too because of France, I mean, who's gonna stop him from saying anything, Canada?"

America hung his head, trying to catch his breath.

"I'm…I'm so sorry, Russia. I'll fix this. I promise! I-….!"

America looked at Russia.

Russia hand a faint smile. He sat completely still as a tear rolled down his cheek.

"No! No no no! Russia, I'm gonna fix this! I'm gonna-"

"Shut up…" Russia chuckled as more tears streamed down his face.

America reached out to him, "Russia, I-"

He batted America's hand away, "Nyet. Don't touch me." Russia's voice remained quiet. He held that twisted smile as he cried. "Do not ever touch me again."

"Russia-"

"I trusted you." Russia's voice cracked. His eyes focused and unfocused and his hands shook a little.

America flinched.

"I trusted you… And I told you I could not be cured."

"You could at least try-!"

"Nyet. And now they…" They would isolate him even more now. His sisters would find out, whatever was left of the friendship he had with the Baltics would be ruined, and now he lost his…

Russia took a deep breath and wiped his eyes.

And took off in a dead sprint.

A moment of shock and realization passed before America sprinted off after him. For a big guy, Russia was surprisingly fast. Centuries of exercise made him onto a muscular running machine and America had a hard time keeping up. They reached the more populated areas of the park. People stared as the two ran by. A few old couples sitting on benches who were busy feeding pigeons when America and Russia came into the park now stared and shook their heads. America tried to ignore them, but couldn't.

Russia was gaining distance. He made it to the front of the park and managed to catch the cross walk in a stroke of luck. America missed it and was stuck in a mass of Londoners.

Russia was long gone by the time the light turned green again.

America dragged himself down the street. Where to go now? If he had to guess Russia ran back to the hotel. All the other countries were checked out and long gone so if he wanted to have a break down, there would be a good place.

Russia probably needed some alone time to think everything through. America said he'd fix this mess and he would, darn it! Maybe if Russia had time to clear his head, everything would be okay?

That meant it was time to check up on his dads and brother.

Once again, America saw something he didn't expect when he went to England's workroom.

France was semi-unconscious on the floor, Canada standing by him with a baseball bat in hand, and England was huddled over the table.

"Hey…Uh."

England spun around, "Where in the world have you bloody been?" His eyebrows were tied together in what looked like an angry yarn ball.

"I was…helping a friend." It came out more like a question.

"Bloody perfect timing!" He pointed at France. "I've got to deal with 'im! And your problems!" America flinched. England had just slipped into English Slang.

"….Never mind."

"What?"

America shook his head. "Your vampire…what you turned France into, that's not like this guy at all."

England looked calmer and confused. "What?"

"This guy…he…" How to explain it…. "Look, they're totally different! Like opposites or something."

England's eyebrows loosened. He looked sad.

"You've done enough for me. Thanks." America gave England a hug.

A chuckle came from the floor.

"You alive, Francis?" England looked down at the Frenchman, shaking the blush off of his face.

"Oui…Didn't you promise me a little something if I behaved?"

"You didn't behave." The yarn ball threatened to return. "Why else would you have to be knocked out?"

France glared at America, "Because he-" The bat connected with the back of Frances skull, just enough to make him black out again.

Canada hid the bat behind his back. "Papa needs rest, oui?"

England looked confused and America mouthed a "thanks, Mattie" to his brother.

America glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. By the time he walked from the park to the workshop, and adding the time to walk back to the hotel, a few hours would have passed. Maybe Russia would be okay now? If he could just convince Russia to see England, maybe, just maybe, this would all work out.

America headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I…uh…Check out of my room?"

"…Fine."

Russia clicked his laptop shut. A quick sweep of the room confirmed that he had packed up all his belongings. He scooted back against the headboard, pulled his knees to his chest, bowed his head, and wrapped his arms around himself. The lights were off and he preferred it that way.

Fifteen minutes until his cab would arrive and take him to the airport.

Without realizing it, Russia started rocking back and forth.

Why? Things were so good. Why did America have to…?

Because he was America.

He had to try to "help". Hero complex and all that… But why? Why did he have to tell other people? They were happy, between the two of them, weren't they? What was all this nonsense about ridding himself of his condition? He didn't want help to rid him of his condition. He never said he did!

Russia's hand moved over his chest. His heart felt like it was going to fall out.

It was all a game to America. It had to be. America never took anything seriously. And now, now Russia faced something even worse than ridicule: heartbreak. Heartbreak that rivaled the split of the Soviet Union… He didn't want to lose something so precious, not again.

…It might have never been there.

America…It felt like he reciprocated Russia's feelings. America would kiss him back, and that should count for something right? Unless he was faking it. But that vodka kiss…

Russia's mouth tasted sour.

He wanted to get America's taste out of his mouth. He wanted to forget the sweet taste of his kiss and the metallic taste of his blood. Russia's hands started trembling. He wanted new blood. Forget that stupid Giver nonsense! He wanted a kill. To drain some poor person completely dry. To make someone else feel pain as much as he is.

To make America feel that pain.

Russia's mind started considering "donors". There were plenty of thieves, beggars, and low class people in Moscow to choose from, but would one of them really get his point across to America? Probably not. No he needed someone more important than the bottom rung. Someone America knew and would feel the impact of their death completely.

An idea struck.

Russia's lips pulled back in an smile. Oh yes, that would be perfect…He would show America how serious he was. How much it hurt. How hopeless they both were.

America was the one who needed to be weakened.

Russia shifted to pull his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed one of the speed dial numbers.

Three rings.

"Brother?"

"Da, Sister…I am on my way home. Would you like to meet and we can spend some time together?"

* * *

Russia's gone all crazy. The question now: Which sister?

If you have a moment, a review or comment would be great!


	13. Chapter 13

An update! It is possible! I'm sorry it took so long, so I hope you all like it.

Enjoy. :D

* * *

"He's gone!"

England looked up from the book he was reading. He'd just found a spell to calm France's urges and keep his bloodlust in check, and it had taken a lot of energy out of him. He was looking forward to sitting down, "relaxing" and reading up on more vampire lore.

And then America came charging in.

Honestly, he'd came back much sooner than England had thought. "Who? And did you check out of the room?"

"Yeah," America sprinted down the stairs and threw his bags onto the floor. "But he's gone!"

With his polar bear in his lap, Canada looked up from his seat."I'm right here, America."

"No, not you!" America began to pace the floor. "My vampire! He's gone!"

England almost tore the yellowed paper of the ancient tome he was reading. "What?"

"I-I messed up bad! And he freaked out! And I thought he would calm down after a while but it turns out that he left town and, oh man, what if he hurts someone! I've got to find him!"

France lifted his head off the dusty couch and looked at America. He smiled dizzily, "_Your_ vampire?"

America twitched, "Uh…y-yeah. My- the vampire that I've been trying to- the one that- OW!" He rubbed the back of his now aching head and turned. England lowered his hand, his eyebrows fusing angrily.

"Calm down, America! If you don't speak clearly we can't understand anything you say."

"But- but- but-…!"

"But nothing!" Another strike. England grabbed America by the shoulder and sat him down in a chair. "Now, you are going to calmly explain what you were trying to tell us about."

America took a deep breath before starting. "Okay, so I went to go check out of my room right? Well…" _I went by Russia's room and he wasn't there. _"I went to check on the vampire and…" _The front desk said he had checked out._ "He wasn't there."

England glanced back at his book and flipped a few pages. "Where was the vampire before he left?"

"Y-you mean directly before or-?"

"No, America. What were the places he usually stayed?"

"…cold places?" That's not technically a lie.

More page flipping, and a frustrated look. "… Body heat? Yes or no?"

"Uh… Yes."

"Fangs?"

"No…"

"Appetite?"

"What?"

"His appetite? Blood only? With food, what?"

America thought for a second. Was England interrogating him? The two countries made eye contact and England seemed to know what he was thinking. Well, duh. Of course he was.

"You did not give me much information to work with, and given current events, you'll have to tell me something more if you want to save 'your vampire'."

"I can't tell you everything…"

"For goodness sake, America! I am trying to help you!"

"I know! I know!" America ran a hand down his face, rubbing at his cheek. "I know. And I'm trying to help you help me but you gotta trust me."

"What has trusting you gotten? Why are you so attached to protecting the identity of this vampire!" England's eyes suddenly widened as a thought hit him. "Did this vampire… bite you?"

America paled.

"America…Tell me he didn't bite you."

"He… I…"

England ran back over to his work table with the miscellaneous pages and books. America watched and cringed noticing how worried he looked. England's hands shook so much it seemed like he would tear the fragile yellow paper. "I can't believe you let him bite you!"

From the corner of his eye, America noticed Canada looking at the wall, his hands behind his back. He looked guilty. "You didn't get mad at Mattie!"

England jumped, "What?"

Canada gasped, "What are you talking about, Al…?"

America jumped out of his seat and pulled Canada's pale arm. Two small red dots spotted his wrist. "See? Bite marks!"

His brother hung his head in defeat. "I couldn't stand to see Papa like this. B-besides, I saw in one of your books that, because he is not a real vampire and only a temporary one, I won't turn into-"

"FRANCIS BONNEFOY!"

Said Frenchman chuckled weakly from the couch. "Oui?"

And then the yelling came. America sat back down, glad to have the attention away from himself for once. Honestly, part of him wanted to tell them everything that had happened, but another part wanted to hang on to the last pieces of failed secrecy. America closed his eyes and thought. It seemed like France hadn't said anything about Russia to England or Canada, so that wasn't something to worry about. Those questions on the other hand…

"Your vampire is really strange, eh?"

America looked over to see Canada sitting next to him.

"So you let France bite you?"

The Canadian shrugged, "He's persuasive. Besides if I didn't let him, he would hold it against me."

"Yeah, I guess."

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Honestly Matt, I don't know." America ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I think I know where to find him, now that I think about it, but even if I do find him, what can I do? I don't know how to fix what I've done."

"…He doesn't sound like a vampire."

"Huh?"

Canada's lone hair curl bobbed as he nodded at America. "Those questions England asked you, your answers, and what I read in the books, well…they all say that whoever this vampire is he really isn't a vampire at all."

"What do you mean he's not a vampire!"

"According to the book, and what happened to France, none of the characteristics match up."

"He drinks blood! He's drunk my blood!"

"…that doesn't mean he's a vampire."

"How-?"

The North America brothers looked up when they heard a chair crash. Their "parents" threw punches at each other, completely oblivious to any furniture or person who happened to get in their way.

Canada turned back to America. "You should go. I don't really understand what your bloodsucker is but I'm sure he's not a vampire."

"Mattie…"

His shy brother smiled, "He's not freezing cold, he eats regular food, and he doesn't have fangs. Think about it, Al. You can figure it out. You're the hero remember?"

America took a deep, steadying breath and hugged his brother, "Thanks, Mattie."

"No problem, eh? I'll take care of Papa and Dad and make sure they don't kill themselves."

With a nod, a bro-fist bump, and a quick check for his wallet, America sprinted back up the stairs. Canada watched him go, glad to see a determined smile on his brother's face again. England and France didn't even notice the door slam shut.

Moscow was exactly as Russia remembered.

Then again, he did not really expect any great difference. He was only happy to be off the plane. Sitting in close quarters with so many people, so many pulses, so much heat… It was maddening. He could have laughed at that, he was already mad. He was sure of that. However, the more roomy airport terminal, and the cold air that snuck in helped clear his head.

At least for a little while.

"Brother." With all the chatter he almost didn't hear his sister creep up behind him. He turned around and gave her the warmest smile he could manage.

"Belarus."

She hugged him tightly, possessively, and for once in his life he didn't mind. He risked a touch and gently stroked her neck. Oh yes, her pulse was a thing of beauty, and soon…

"I missed you brother."

"Da, I know. And I missed you." He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. "Ukraine did not follow you, did she?"

"No, she did not. She does not even know you are here."

He smiled and hugged her again, a reward for doing as he told her to. "Very good, now let's go home, da?"

Belarus had a taxi waiting for them. Russia put his bags in and sat down next to his sister. Normally he would not risk sitting directly next to her, but he had to swallow his fear if he was going to go through with this.

He went through his mental check list again. Ukraine would not be a problem. He was not one hundred percent certain, but he could have sworn the night America left during dinner he heard his sister's voice on the other end of America's cell phone, so Ukraine was working with America. Her working with America increased America's chances of stopping him. No, Belarus was the right choice for this. She would be more than willing to cooperate, he knew. And America would go completely crazy when he found out a fellow country died on his watch.

Because of him.

Russia leaned against his sister, who was already practically glued to his side, and took her hand. He ran his thumb against the back of her hand and she blushed.

This would be almost too easy.

Eventually the taxi pulled up to Russia's mansion. Fresh snowfall covered the sidewalk up to the door and his roof. Icicles glistened from the gutters, and Russia vaguely noted they looked like knives made of ice.

He grabbed his bags and the two siblings went to the door as the taxi began its trek back to Moscow's inner city. Russia's gloved hand opened the door and they shuffled inside. How long had he been gone? It was only a few days, but it looked more like weeks. The entry hall was dark from the lack of sunlight through the windows and turned off lights. As if on cue, Belarus flicked on a few lamps, casting the room in a red-orange glow. Russia noticed dust on his couches, tables, and other furniture. He shook his head. This house showed its age much too easily.

"If you want brother, I will cook something."

Russia shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I am going to get a bottle of vodka and we can talk in the living room?"

She smiled again, but her eyes remained the same cold they always were. Russia bet that she expected him to attempt to run away at any moment. "Alright."

The two split up, Belarus headed deeper into the mansion to one of the smaller living rooms, the one she knew Russia liked best. Due to its size, the heat from the fireplace did not disperse as quickly or widely and thus was warmer than the larger ones. She made a mental note to start the fire while he retrieved his vodka.

Russia reached up into one of the high shelves, gloved fingers brushing against glass.

He pulled down the bottle and checked the label. It was one of his finest, most expensive bottles. Perfect. He would treat himself, and maybe it would make up for the lack of America's presence, or more importantly his kisses and his warmth. He was not planning on kissing his sister. No, he only wanted her blood, and it would make him feel better. The shock on America's face afterward? Even better.

Russia tilted the bottle. Its contents sloshed around.

Maybe this would help him forget the last piece of his almost routine ritual. Blood and vodka. Would that be better than blood and kisses?

Off in the distance he heard the thud of logs falling into a fireplace.

Regardless if it was better or not, it was what he had to do. He would make America hate his hero complex. He would crush America's hero spirit. Make him helpless. Make him weaker.

And maybe then they could be happy.

Maybe he would behave.

Russia took off the cap and gulped down a mouthful of vodka.

He had to.

* * *

Oh FACE Family... I love you and your dysfunctional-ness.

Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long to have up. Seriously. XD Sorry for the wait.

Next chapter: Will America make it in time? How will Belarus react? And will England and France not kill each other? Find out next time.


	14. Chapter 14

Hey, everybody. So...that whole "update sooner than last time thing"?

Ha. Hahahahah. Opps.

*finally uploads and runs for cover from angry people*

Btw, one (probably two) more chapter(s) to go. FINAL COUNTDOWN~

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Russia sat down next to his sister.

He didn't bother leaving any room between them; it would just be closed soon enough anyway. Either by himself or Belarus he wasn't sure.

"Is the fire hot enough for you, brother? I can add more wood if you want."

To be honest Russia had not even noticed the fire, only the glow it gave Belarus's neck. His stomach twitched with disgust and hunger.

"Nyet. It's fine…" Closing his eyes helped clear his mind. After running away from her all his life, purposefully being close felt wrong. As long has he couldn't see her, he couldn't think about her, he could pretend it wasn't her neck he was going to bite, but America's.

America's neck… Russia grinned and leaned a little closer to his sister. Oh yes, America's neck was what he wanted. It's what he always wanted. Even when they were at war with one another, that neck was a prize. Depending on the situation it could be severed or bitten into, but after thinking about it, he was glad he didn't kill America those decades ago, and vice versa.

Belarus shivered at Russia's closeness. "B-Brother-?"

"Shh…." Russia put his index finger over her mouth. He licked his own lips and lightly brushed her neck.

_Nyet…this isn't sister… This is America… America…._

He smiled, the mantra-like thoughts successfully masking the truth. He didn't hear the high pitched gasp as he lightly bit down, arms wrapping around Belarus's thin shoulders and waist.

"Mattie! Answer the freakin' phone!"

Ring… second ring…third-

"Hello?"

"Mattie! I've figured it out!"

"Al?"

"Yeah, listen!" America flung his bomber jacket over his shoulder as he made his way past airport security. "I got stopped by the random search guys, probably because my thinkin' face is so intense, I told them nothin' was going on but they had to check my stuff and- ANYWAY! I think I know what to do!"

"That's great… What is it?"

America flashed his ticket to the attendant and various other airport workers in an attempt to get by faster. "Do you think you can do a spell for me?"

"A spell? Like, use one of Dad's books?"

"Yeah!" America smiled. "Those books should have all you need to know. Just gotta follow the instructions."

"O-okay.. uh…"

"Wait, can you get to the books?"

Canada put his hand over the receiver and looked over at his parents. England and France were currently sprawled out on the floor, too tired from fighting each other. France had scooted over and was sucking at England's neck.

Canada twitched. "Yeah, I don't think dad will notice…"

"Awesome. Now, this is the spell I need…"

The second Belarus's blood touched his tongue Russia's mind remembered that it wasn't America's neck his lips were on. It didn't taste the same, not at all. America's blood was warm and possessed something Russia craved. Belarus's tasted too much like his own: overworked, chilled and ancient.

She pressed close to Russia, but, much to his surprise, didn't wrap her arms around him in return. She made quiet confused noises every now and then, and her hands shook, unsure of what to do.

Russia felt sorry for her then.

He moved away from her neck a little and gulped down the blood in his mouth. "Sister…?"

She looked at him with teary eyes. "Ah…."

"Belarus…"

She wouldn't look at him.

"Bela-" He was cut off as she buried her face in his chest.

"I do not know what you are doing, brother…but whatever it is, I'm…I'm happy to be a part of it."

"…what?"

She clawed down the front of his shirt. "I know you would never get this close to me…unless you need me for something. And I'm… I'm glad to help! I love you!"

Russia held her close.

"Neck…," he said softy and brushed his fingers near the spot he bit earlier.

Obediently, his sister's head tilted back.

Something tugged at the strange muscle in his chest, and small tears swelled in his eyes, out of pity or happiness he wasn't sure.

At least in her last moments she would be happy.

"No, that's not the right spell! Try another book!"

Canada groaned and tried to pick another one off the bookshelf. None of the books on the table seemed to have the information America wanted, neither had half of the shelf apparently. Looking through old dusty books clogged up his throat, and the small print was hard to read in the dim light. America was demanding something so specific he wasn't sure he would even find it here in this little workshop of England's. And to top it off, whatever France and England were up to seemed to have progressed to a point where Canada couldn't look over there without throwing up a little.

"-there, Mattie?"

"Huh?"

"I said, you still there, Mattie?"

"Oh, yeah. And I think this one might have it?" Canada walked over the table and dropped the book unceremoniously onto it.

"Really? Cool!"

Flipping the cover open he started to read the table of contents, breathing a sigh of relief that it was in English and readable.

America glanced around nervously, not so much a fear of the flight, but the fear that Canada couldn't find a spell that would work for what he needed. A flight attendant came by and America took a Coke from her cart. He smiled at the fresh 'kshhhh' sound the can made when it opened, and took a big swig. The strong, icy cola snapped his mind back into focus a little.

Or maybe it was just the caffeine.

"…America?"

"Hm?"

"…How's this one sound?"

Russia leaned over his sister, sucking at the bite mark on her neck. Occasionally, he would check her pulse and frowned when the feeling of relief filled his chest when he found it. Killing a country seemed necessary when he first thought of his plan, and in his opinion it still seemed necessary, but his sister…

He wasn't sure if he would have it in him.

She currently lay on the couch as her brother drank her blood. Her eyes, loving, trusting, and frightened all at once, watched his every move. Slowly, her eyes drooped, unconsciousness threatening to take over.

Russia wished she would fall unconscious. He didn't want her to feel it when she finally did die.

_I don't want her to die._

_She has to die._

_No, she doesn't._

_Yes, she does._

_I could find someone else._

_I cannot find anyone else. _

_I couldn't forgive myself if I killed her._

_I will forgive myself for killing her._

_But would America forgive me?_

Belarus's eyes closed finally, her breath becoming ragged and shallow.

_He will have to forgive me. There is no other way._

America sighed. Mattie had found it, and, if the feeling of a ten pound weight on his chest was any indication, had casted the spell too. He wiggled around in a futile attempt to get used to the uncomfortable new sensation. A glance at his watched told that it was only another hour until the plane landed. Then, a straight shot to Russia's house (seemed to be the most logical place for Russia to be), and then the hard part starts. Hopefully, he wasn't too late.

And if he was…

_Russia, please forgive me._

* * *

What is the spell Canada found? Will America catch Russia before Belarus dies? What the heck was France and England doing? Find out next time...


	15. Chapter 15

Really sorry about the delay! Enjoy the second to last chapter, everybody!

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_**What you've become, just as I have**_

_**Are you and I so unalike?**_

_**I don't hear you, just as I am**_

_**Afraid if we dance we might die**_

_**Mock the world**_

_**Live safe, say why**_

_**Don't you know if you live life**_

_**Then you become what you are**_

Russia's home was the same as America remembered it. The surrounding land was completely white from heavy, constant snowfall. The mansion itself hadn't changed since the last time he had been there either: big, ancient looking, and not white. The dark brown paint chipped and flaked into the whiteness below. Tiles on the roof looked in disarray around the edges. By all means it was an old house, but it was sturdy and built to withstand snowstorms and decades of decay.

America could barely make it up the driveway.

Not only was said driveway caked in ice and snow and thus hard to walk across, but the spell made it difficult to breathe. The constant pressure on his chest, specifically his heart, intensified as time went on, but that's was to be expected. The cold air burned his lungs and scratched down the insides of his throat like icicle nails.

America finally reached the door. He gripped the handle for support and panted as his heart struggled to keep beating. _Just a little longer…_

He turned the knob and the door creaked. America noticed the thick seal of ice that had practically glued the door shut.

_Dang it Russia… _With a surge of super human strength, America yanked the door open. The ice shattered with a deafening crack, as a shot of raw pain surged though his chest from the effort.

_Oh right… this is why I hate using magic! Freakin'….freakin' side effects…_

Russia looked up from his spot on floor. Gunfire? The door swung open and a shadow appeared.

A shadow with Nantucket on its head.

A surge of panic ran though him. America followed him!

America panted and collapsed on the doorstep. He looked up, staring the shadowy mass that he knew was Russia though his bangs. He stood up slowly, "Russia…"

Russia didn't answer him.

America scanned the room. It too had not changed since the last time he had been there. His focused eyes caught a movement and turned back to Russia.

Russia slipped out of a shadowed area, and flinched when America gasped and stared at him.

"Is- is that-"

Russia nodded. Why hide what was obvious? "Da. Blood."

America charged forward and inspected him closely. There was blood on Russia's clothes, his chin, and his lips. A surge of anger washed over him along with a surprising prick of jealousy, which he quickly shook away.

"Who?" America sounded upset, and Russia braced himself for the worst.

_Say it. Tell him. Say what you did. Do not falter now. Tell him why you did this why- why… _

America saw something and ran to another room. Russia followed and opened his mouth to speak, his heart beating faster and faster until it threatened to fall to the dusty floor. Not a single word came out. He covered his heart with his hand.

_Who am I kidding? I have no reason. _

America followed the trail of blood on the floor and ran to a small living room close to the opening room. He heard Russia running behind him but honestly didn't care. He wanted to see if there was any way to help the poor soul Russia decided to drink from.

A pickpocket? No…

They were wearing a dress. …A familiar dress.

America eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "Your sister." He spun around and practically punched Russia as he caught up with him. "YOUR SISTER!"

"America-" Russia's voice sounded hoarse. His throat was tight with tears that threatened to fall.

"You killed your own sister! I thought you were past hurting other people like- especially your- she's your- AHHH!" America curled up on himself, one hand pulling his hair, the other clutching his heart.

"What is wrong with your-?"

"Why are you so calm? HUH? Is this fun for you? Hurting people? Russia, I thought you were better than that now! I thought you were passed this!" America's eyes teared up, and Russia's heart shook in pain.

"I-I am! I didn't- I couldn't-" Russia sputtered.

"You couldn't?" America motioned to his fallen sister, his hand still over his heart. "Does that look like couldn't to you!"

"America please! Stop!" Russia's voice cracked and he sobbed. "Please! I didn't! I-"

America walked out of the room. The spell needed to be used quickly before it dissipated from disuse. The side effect of difficulty breathing made it hard to seem angry. He was upset that Russia had attacked Belarus, but he could tell she was alive. Barely alive, but alive nonetheless. Russia couldn't kill his sister.

Time to put the plan into motion.

Russia hastily followed and clung to America's arm when he reached the other nation. "America! Believe me! I-"

"You're a monster." America glared at him. His normally beautiful sky blue eyes had become steel-like. "Nothing but a monster."

Russia's hands slid off of America's arm slowly. He stared disbelievingly. "….what?"

"That's what you are. A monster. Heck, I tried to help you! I tried, okay! But no, you keep using other people. Stupid me for thinking you can change."

Russia felt something snap inside of him.

"And that's another thing, I guess everybody else was right. 'Oh you can't befriend Russia, he'll only use you.' 'He can't make friends!' You know what, Monster? I think they're right!"

Something shattered into millions of pieces inside of him.

"You don't deserve me! Or my blood!"

America was knocked to the ground. Russia pinned him down as tears rolled down his round face, violet eyes narrowed and mouth twisted into a malice filled scowl. "…do you really believe them?"

America was still trying to catch his breath. Russia hand knocked the wind out of him. He didn't know what was going on, how Russia moved that fast, but he couldn't worry about those things now. He needed to get his plan in motion.

_Don't worry, big guy… this will all be over soon. _

Russia snarled and slammed America's shoulders into the floor again. "Well? Do you?"

America kept up his charade. "Of course. Monster."

With a muffled sob, disguised as an angry yell, Russia bit into America's neck. America flinched as his teeth sank in. There was no attempt to be gentle, no attempt to be nice, only a constant rhythm of sharp pain as Russia sucked out more and more blood. Russia pressed close, their chests flat against one another, both of them breathing hard for different reasons.

America's heartbeat started to slow down.

A small headache formed in the back of his skull as the spell took effect. The corners of his vision blurred and he groaned. Magic was always painful. On the few occasions where England had successfully used it on him, most of which were as a child and he was sick or injured ("Magic will heal it better than any medicine") America would run and hide. He hated everything about using magic. The weird processes, the painful side effects, and then the spell itself…

America wiggled, gasping for breath. Russia hadn't drunk enough blood to do this much damage to him, but that didn't mean he couldn't pretend.

Russia pulled back from America's neck and looked down at him. He scowled at the sight of that sweet face scrunched up in pain. "A monster am I?"

America only panted. His fingertips had gone numb. He couldn't see Russia's face anymore, only the violent violet shine of his eyes.

"I try so hard… so hard to be nice. I thought things were going well. What harm did it do? I was careful. I thought… I thought we were happy. We were happy, da?" Russia's hands found America's and held them. Russia frowned at how cold America's hands felt. They were colder than his own.

America couldn't find his voice. _You used to kill people for their blood…_

"You were happy too… I know you were…" Russia leaned down and nuzzled America's neck. "So happy…"

_You're addicted… Trapped…_

"Why can't we go back to that…? I am happy with you. You can be my only giver… "

_It's so much better to be free…_

Russia lightly kissed him. America was vaguely aware of the coppery taste seeping into his mouth. He was more aware of the inky depth his consciousness was falling into.

A large calloused hand checked his pulse and the loving look on Russia's face evaporated in shock.

"America!" He picked the smaller nation up and lightly shook him. "America, are you okay?"

_Don't…worry, big guy… This'll all be over soon… _

"America! _Nyet!_ I was being careful! I didn't take that much I-"

Russia's voice faded out of America's ears. Large teardrops hit his cheeks and he felt Russia shaking, crying, yelling…

_It's for your own good…_

America's heart stopped beating.

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One more chapter to go...

If you could spare a moment, reviews would be lovely.


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